


Thermodynamics

by hanwritessolo



Series: The Science of Us [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friendship, Light Angst, Mild Gore, POV First Person, Slice of Life, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-12-31 16:18:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12136287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanwritessolo/pseuds/hanwritessolo
Summary: A 33-year-old Cor braves the enemy territory of Niflheim and finds help from an unlikely ally. As they attempt to set aside their differences and the growing tension between them, they soon learn that just like the laws of energies that govern the universe, some feelings only transform into something else.





	1. Starting Point

When I was fifteen, Clarus challenged me to take down a bandersnatch prowling just a short distance away from Hammerhead. He was expecting I’ll back out given it was my first time outside the Crown City in an uncharted territory. But reckless as I was back then, I took my blade and ventured out the desert to hunt down the beast. Idiotic too, because I didn’t heed Cid’s sage advice that a sandstorm was brewing over the horizon.

What I took away from that day was 1) slaying a bandersnatch was a walk in the park, 2) weathering a sandstorm was a nightmare, and 3) Cid is always, _always_ right.

Two decades later, and it seems I never really took lesson three into heart. I should have considered Cid’s word of caution before I set out to this recon mission. Seeing as where I am now, not only am I treading through merely unknown terrains, but I’m braving through Niflheim soil, watching a ravenous sandstorm billow all over Succarpe.

The train pulls into an abrupt stop. I look out the window, and all I can see is a mercurial haze of sand and dust enveloping the atmosphere. Amidst the sound of the winds violently hissing outside, an announcement echoes out that we have just arrived in Cartanica, and all passengers are advised to wait as disembarkation will be temporarily on hold until the storm comes to pass.

I fiddle with the fake ID stashed in my pocket and weigh the limited options before me: either I take the safe route which is to sit here inside this cabin and lie in wait until the train resumes rolling along, or I can take the risky route, which means I step outside and probe around a little bit with hopes of finding any helpful intel.

My destination, one of the Magitek production facilities in Eusciello, is still three stops away from Cartanica. I glance at the window again. Zero visibility. Zero chances of getting out of this train for a quick stopover.

Since waiting has never been my forte, I slide open the cabin door and head towards the next carriage.

The diner car is buzzing with chatter and restless commotion. Most of the booths are occupied by families and couples alike while middle-aged men monopolized the bar seats. I slowly weave my way through a group of children running along, until I notice the newsstand tucked between the bar counters. I briefly stop to scan through the headlines. _Death of a Monarch. Niflheim Mourns For Lost Heiress. Verstael Besithia: Man Of The Hour. Magitek Is Life._ Most of these are tabloids, so I skip to the next ones. I sift through the remaining layer of papers, hoping to find something close to an official publication.

Seven tabloids and three Niflheim gossip magazine issues later, I stumble upon a newspaper: _The Tenebraen Gazette_. The headline is in bold blue font, and I take it from the rest of the pile. _The Oracle’s Blessing_ is written across the front page, and below is a coloured photo of the Tenebraen royal family and its council: there’s the unmistakable Queen Sylva Via Fleuret in the middle with her two children in front, Lunafreya and Ravus. Some familiar lords and ladies from houses I cannot name stand by her side. But the one that stands out is a beautiful fiery-haired woman on Queen Sylva’s immediate right—the only redhead in the group—that the printed page appears to have been smeared by orange paint. I read through the names on the footnote of the photo. _Louise Merryweather, Janus Windsor, Queen Sylva Via Fleuret, Candela Clark._

Candela. A suitable name, I thought. Kissed by fire.

Sitting next to the newsstand, an old man vacates his seat on the bar, and motions for me to take it. I kindly accept as he walks away, leaving me behind with my choice of reading material. I skim through the entries of _The Tenebraen Gazette_ expecting to read something about the current climate of Tenebrae’s relationship with the Empire only to be left disappointed, with none of the articles proving to be substantial. I neatly fold it and return it to the rack. Perhaps I should read and give the tabloids a chance; it may provide some clues, or a speck of truth.

I reach for the nameless publication with the _Magitek Is Life_ headline and riffle through the pages: articles about the achievements and accolades of Verstael Besithia in line with his recent breakthrough in Magitek weaponry, and subsequent criticism on his scientific methods. Most people seem to tie his experiments to unsolved disappearances of families… and even villages.

“Would you like to have a drink to go with that read of yours? Goes well with some of the horrible things written there.” I look up to see the bartender eyeing me curiously all the while wiping the counter.

“Yes, please,” I answer. He sets the cloth aside and takes an empty mug from underneath the table, goes to the barrel of draft beer, and comes back with a mug filled to the rim.

He places the drink in front of me. “Thank you.” I say, with a brief nod.

I was about to take a swig when he asks, “Where’re you headed?”

I set the mug back down. “Tenebrae,” I lie.

“Oh yeah, it’s sylleblossom season.” His eyes light up at the realization. “You don’t look like a guy who likes flowers, though.”

I snort, amused by his candid observation. “That’s why they say never be quick to judge.”

“True, true.” The man lightheartedly laughs, returning to the idle chore of counter swiping.

I take a sip of beer. “This is actually good,” I warmly praise.

He salutes in agreement. “That’s Tenebrae’s best for ya. Fermented sylleblossom.”

The taste of malt and spring lingers in my mouth. If I remember it right, this was the very same liquor Reggie refused to let me have back then. Not that I can blame him—I was underaged.

I take another gulp. I decide to get the subject back on track, so I say, “Interesting rumours going around these days."

“Well, that thing you’re reading—” he jabs a finger to the paper in front of me— “is just the tip of the iceberg. Word among mercenaries runnin' around—word that no newspaper has the balls to publish—is that the empress’ miscarriage is nothing but a ruse, all 'cause of Besithia’s experiments.”

“Implying what exactly?” I lead on.

He leans closer. “Some speculate Besithia experimented on the empress, some say he took the baby the moment it was born. No one knows for sure, everything’s kept under the wraps by the official Niflheim media, so all ya see are these brave ass idiots and their tabloids,” he says in a hushed tone, and he proceeds, “But it feels sensible, y’know? No one has seen the empress in months. Some are already spreading nasty shit that she may have taken her own life, some even claim she’s gone crazy. Lot of noise going around, that’s what.”

“You sure are… informed,” I say, taking another swig.

He grins. “Been tending to this bar for years and trust me—people and their stories come and go around these parts, buddy.”

“You think any of these are true?”

“Beats me.” He shrugs. “The Empire’s been acting way too suspicious for the past couple of years ever since the Chancellor came around. Won’t be surprised to know if the emperor’s been sacrificing his brood and kin to whatever goal he’s trying to achieve.”

I swirl my drink and take the last gulp. I hand the bartender the empty mug, pay my bill, and offer him my thanks. Just as I’m about to turn my heel and return to the previous carriage where my cabin is, three tall Imperial officers saunter inside beginning to inspect each passenger and asking for identification. So as not to raise any suspicion, I remain in my seat. The fake ID feels like a metric ton in my pocket.

“Excuse me, sir. ID please.” The tallest one with ash gray hair—the eldest looking in the trio—approaches me. I fish it out to show it to him, which he swipes from my hand rather briskly.

“Headed for where… Sir _Lockhart_?” he asks, his eyes meticulously examining my fake ID.

“Tenebrae,” I lie again. I glance at his other companions, two golden brown-haired boys—one pale faced and one sprinkled with freckles—who both look too identical for their own good.

“For the sylleblossom festival, huh—well, enjoy out there,” the gray-haired man says, handing my ID back. I politely beg my leave, and halfway through, one of the officers call out to me.

“You know, you do look familiar." I turn around, and the freckled boy’s eyes narrow at me, like curiously scrutinizing every pore in my face. Same goes for the other two officers. Everyone in the carriage, even the bartender, swings their heads in my direction, their gaze heavy with interest. 

“You flatter me, officer. My parents say I do share similarities with a lot of people,” I boldly affirm, hoping this confidence can buy my way out.

His mouth hangs open, but then he protests, “No, I think—”

By some form of divine intervention, I hear the door behind me slide. “Darling, I’ve been looking all over for you!” I turn around and before I know it, a woman’s arm suddenly snakes around my waist. I stare down at her, stunned, and she just gives me a bright yet knowing smile. “Sorry, sweet officers,” she tells the Imperial men before me, speaking on my behalf. Her voice was dripping with honey. “Is there any problem? Has my lovely fiancée done something—”

“No, ma’am—I...we, uh, we’ve already cleared him a little while ago,” stutters the boy with the pale face. Clearly, the woman already has the boy wrapped around her finger. Meanwhile, the boy's companion sneers at him.

“Then I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I take him with me now? Because we have a little bit of unfinished business, if you know what I mean,” she purrs. For a woman with a small frame such as hers, she’s surprisingly strong as her grip around me tightens and my breath hitches. Out of nervousness or confusion, I couldn’t even say at this point.

“Oh—okay, ma’am. Best be on your way.” The eldest officer flushes and gives me a wink. The rest of our audience return to their own personal activities.

With no second wasted, this woman—long raven hair, almond-eyed, and in a blue dress—escorts me back to the other carriage and into my own cabin. She locks the door behind her and faces me.

“Who are—”

She places a finger on her lips, her eyes stern enough to be taken as an instruction that I should stay quiet. She presses her ear on the door. It didn't take a minute for me to hear approaching footsteps from a good distance.

She slightly shifts her attention to me and mouths, “Play along.”

I mouth back, “What—”

Before I can even properly ask, she starts moaning softly and making sounds so inappropriate it leaves no room for imagination.

When she sees me entirely motionless and taken aback, she slaps me in the arm and glowers at me. “Do. It.”

Left with no choice and at the peak of desperation, I heave a deep breath, letting out a fake grunt. “Baby—ah, you feel so good.”

She smirks at me and throws me a thumbs up, and she continues, faking another whine: “No, they’ll hear us—”

“You embarrassed me earlier—” I growl, hoping against hope that she would not notice how this is turning me on— “I’ll have to punish you—”

She gapes at me, visibly impressed. She signals me to go on with this charade. “Ah, baby, slow down—”

Our eyes lock as this nameless woman and I shamelessly exchange fake porn sounds much to my distaste, until we hear a whispering voice outside our door. “Captain, let’s leave them be,” suggests a young boy’s voice. “That man couldn't possibly be…”

We hear the footsteps scurrying away, the sound growing indistinct, and then, completely gone.

We finally relax. She slumps herself onto the bed. “That was close,” she softly exhales, visibly relieved.

I scratch my cheek out of confusion. “So, I, uh—”

She jolts and sits upright. “I must admit, to think you did all that with a straight face is downright alarming. But you have acting chops, I’ll give you that. Though a bit careless of you to show yourself around here with not even a disguise.”

I warily look at her. “Do I know you?”

“Let’s save the introductions later once we arrive in Tenebrae.” She flashes a smile. “If you think you can get off at Eusciello after raising a little of their attention, you’re quite mistaken.”

My face drops. What the hell? “Wait, how did you—”

She stands up and peers out the window. “You Lucians tend to underestimate these Imperial officers. Most of them are dumb, while others are smart bloodhounds—once they track a scent, they will hunt you down. That officer probably radioed some of his cohorts. So here’s a little suggestion, Cor Leonis of the Crownsguard—” she grins at me, and she cast a furtive glance on my hand as I curl it around the pommel of my blade— “It would be wise not to draw your sword here—I’m not your enemy. Do as I say until we reach someplace safe. Trust me, I’m your best chance of getting out of this train alive.”

  

* * *

  

We alight in Piztala, a quiet town in the outskirts of Tenebrae. I would love to marvel at the lush green sights around me and enjoy the crisp spring morning, but right now…

As I follow the woman wordlessly onto the platform and towards the station exit, I go back to weighing my new set of options: I can knock her unconscious and disarm her, or I can just run. But she doesn't even appear to have any weapons on her—though I won’t go far as to say she looks harmless, because one misjudgement might be the end of me. As for running away, given that she’s from around here, I don’t think I’ll be able to go far without her knowing.

And knowing things is obviously her game.

We cross the streets and onto the myriad of shops and taverns. There are a few people flocking past. I trail closely behind her as she makes a curve on a sidewalk that leads to a tiny junction surrounded by wooden houses clothed in moss and vines. Right in the middle is an oddly placed bricked building with a gaudy yellow sign _Murphy’s_ atop its entrance.

We walk our way towards it, and she taps three rhythmic beats at the door.

A voice on the other side booms: “We’re closed.”

My lady companion, undeterred, responds: “It’s me.”

There are sounds of locks unlatching, and the door opens to reveal a huge man twice my size. He looks down at the woman, and then to me, and then back at her. He studies her cautiously, and his eyes widen. “Oh, forgive me, my lady—”

My lady?

“No need for pleasantries,” she interrupts. Something tells me that I should have an idea who this woman is.

The man lets us in and steers us further inside. I take a look around, and judging by the blocks of counters and the shelves of bottles lined up along the gray concrete walls, this place happens to be a bar. There’s also that musty smell of cement, liquor, and dried vomit. The room’s only source of light is the daylight bleeding through the window panels from high up the ceiling.

She circles on one of the tables in the middle of the room and takes a seat. “You may leave us,” the woman commands. The man walks away and goes back to the bar counter on the farthest corner.

I ask the question most in dire need of an answer: “Who exactly are you?”

“Not beating around the bush, are we? Expected nothing less from one of King Regis’s retinue,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “Though I must ask first—the moment we got off in Piztala and all the way down here, you had a chance of running away, or even killing me right on the spot. Why didn't you?”

“At this rate I have a lot of questions which I think you’re the only one who could answer, and you owe me those answers.”

 _“I owe you?”_  She clicks her tongue and grins, flashing her perfect teeth. I cannot seem to tell whether I pissed her off or if she is grinning at me out of spite. “You’re an interesting man, Cor Leonis. You could've made me answer those questions by drawing your sword or your knife against my throat.”

“That’s not how I—”

“—operate, yes, I understand. You are, after all, an honourable man. It’s against your moral code.” She nods and she rises from her seat. “Forgive me, let me just get this out of the way—” she raises her head and turns back, and I see her dipping one of her fingers in her eyes. “These contacts can get really nasty.”

She turns around to face me, and in this light, her supposedly brown eyes are now shimmering green. She then massages her cheeks, and peels something away, something resembling to skin…

With the shape of her face now, I feel like I’ve seen this woman before.

Not long after, she reaches at the back of her neck, and I watch as her dark brown hair fall over her shoulders and onto the floor, revealing her… blazing auburn hair.

The woman in the _The Tenebraen Gazette_.

“You’re Queen Sylva’s royal advisor,” I blurt out.

“I sincerely apologize for bringing you here in such a fashion,” she says ruefully. “Permit me to start over with my manners. My name is Candela Clark. Surely you must understand that I had to take an extra precautionary measure.”

“I didn’t know that a queen’s royal advisor can also be capable of doing such… tasks,” is all I manage to say. Words are stuck on my throat. I’m still trying to untie the knots of questions in my head.

“Our kingdom is not as sophisticated as that of Lucis to have both a Kingsglaive and a Crownsguard. We make do of what little resources we have. You’ll be surprised to know we’re more flexible than we let on.”

“Apologies, I meant no offense, my lady.”

“And none taken.” She smilingly waves a hand. “Information is my trade, sir. And without it, I cannot provide my queen proper counsel. I make sure that I have all the means to have my eyes and ears on the ground. But let’s not waste time dilly-dallying on the account of my services." She inches closer to where I’m standing. “I know you have some burning questions for me.”

Before I get even further distracted with her tantalizing green eyes, I ask, “How did you know I was on that train?”

“Like I said, eyes and ears on the ground. I have my little whisperers, but I prefer acting on my own accord. We’ve been expecting your arrival for some time. What I did not know, however, was that the Imperial officers were going to have their rounds of inspection. A small oversight on my part. I did have a hunch that you’ll find yourself in hot water, considering you came here as you were, hence I had to improvise.”

“And how did you know I was heading for Eusciello?”

“An educated guess, as you may put it.” She bites her lower lip. “I mean, what else could a Lucian who serves the Crownsguard have to do in Niflheim? Certainly you’re not that foolish to head for Gralea—you didn't seem to be the type to have that death wish. The only production facilities outside the Capital are in Eusciello and Vogliupe. The latter halted their operations months ago, due to the erratic weather conditions, thanks to Shiva’s wrath. Seeing as you’re a clever man, I didn’t think you’d be unwise to gamble your chances on Vogliupe. So Eusciello it is. And besides, you’ve been there before. Stole one infant among the hundreds of clones. Almost lost your head for it.”

There’s no point for me to even deny her claims; it’s enough proof that she operates on a different level. It would be unwise to cross Candela now, I thought. This woman is sharper than a sword.

“You see, you and I—we’re both after the same thing.” She looks at me gravely. “Which is why I had to seek you out. I will need your help, as you will need mine.”

“How am I supposed to help you? And why me? Why not have one of your own men go and investigate Niflheim’s activities?” I firmly challenge.

“We already have, but the activities behind the research facilities are held strictly confidential that not even my informants can get access to. Not to mention, extremely dangerous—even foolish mercenaries shy away from those areas. Being involved around those parts… will only raise suspicion that could be traced back to us, which will jeopardize Tenebrae’s autonomy from the Empire.” She folds her arms across her chest. “And you know exactly where I’m getting at.”

Ah, yes. If the Empire finds out that Tenebrae—one of their provincial territories and seat of the Oracle—has been snooping around against them, there would be a reckoning. The act in and of itself is treason. Which is why, clever as she is, Candela needs someone from the outside. Specifically someone Lucian. Of course, what further damage could it be, given that Lucis and Niflheim has been at war for centuries?

As far as this narrative goes, I’m the only person who fits her bill.

“So in that sense, I make the perfect scapegoat if this doesn’t work out,” I finally say.

“Not exactly the term I had in mind, but in a way, yes.” She hovers around me like a moon, her small figure with her green eyes so magnetic I can’t help but look. “But it will work out. You’re an overachiever, Cor—one who delights in a good challenge. I don’t think you’re the type who takes failure lightly.”

“You put too much of your confidence in me.”

“I only put my confidence in the best.”

I pace around the room, trying to string together fragments of my thoughts. I’m on foreign land, a complete stranger to the new dangers that lie ahead, with no available resources and no trusted companions by my side. Having Candela as an ally would make this assignment significantly easier, that much is true. I could definitely use any help that I can get.

And yet, I feel like if I accept her terms, I’m crossing a jurisdiction I shouldn’t even have any business with. Involving someone from Tenebrae in this supposedly solo mission…

What would Reggie and Clarus do?

“What exactly do you propose?” I ask.

“If we’re to seek the true nature of the Magitek infantry, you have to be inside,” she insists. “You have to be one of them.”

“But that’s just _me_ sticking my head in the oven to help _you_ ,” I argue. “How are you going to help me?”

“In many ways you can imagine.” She takes my hand in hers and looks at me with an eager twinkle in her eyes. “Let’s start with getting you an Imperial officer uniform and a proper ID, shall we, Mr. Lockhart?”

 


	2. Equilibrium

We arrive in Zoldara Henge by sundown. With the Fenestala Manor majestically towering over the mountains, I can’t help but be in awe—this place looks like straight out of a dream.

In the light of dusk, the manor’s milky white facade is dusted in a pinkish blush. Candela, with her hair aflame in this light, ushers me through a thicket of trees and across a long ivory bridge that leads to the estate’s entrance. We pass by their foyer and a long wide hall, which is no different from the manor’s exterior: walls bleached to pure white, a tinge of minty greens around its corners. Definitely a stark contrast from the Citadel’s fondness for dark colours.

We enter the looming doors at the end of the hall and onto the audience chamber.

I see Queen Sylva and Princess Lunafreya descending the platform at the other end, approaching us in elegant strides. My hands feel clammy; I swallow hard. Meeting Tenebrae’s royal family isn't exactly part of my itinerary.

Unsure of what to do, I kneel on one knee. “Your Majesty,” I say.

Candela gushes a quiet laughter, and I wince in embarrassment. “Your Majesty,” she repeats. “Cor Leonis of the Lucian Crownsguard.”

“King Regis has spoken highly of you. Rise, please,” the queen commands, voice gentle yet firm. I pick myself up, and before me I meet Queen Sylva’s piercing blue eyes. “I don’t quite remember kneeling as a custom for Lucian soldiers...”

“Well, I—uh, I believe so...” I helplessly stammer. Actually, it isn’t a custom. Not with Reggie, anyway. Gods. She radiates with so much benevolence that I even forget my words _and_ my own damn formalities. I attempt to recover my confidence and pick up on this conversation. “Uh, so… you’ve met His Majesty?”

“Yes, quite a long time ago, I’m afraid. He even mentioned of this brave young warrior who always accompanied him faithfully in his travels, and I remember he expressed his regrets that he had to leave this young man behind in Lucis to make sure he finished high school with flying colours." Her face lights up as she recounts in amusement, while I sink further in my hole of embarrassment. Of course. Reggie almost never fails to taunt me even in my times of absence.

“You seem troubled?” The queen suddenly asks in deep concern. “I trust you’ve had quite a journey. I sincerely hope Candela here hasn’t threatened you in some way, has she—”

“Oh, Your Majesty, I would never!” Candela gasps. She and the queen share a look that gradually transforms into a playful smile. For a moment, I see a small likeness of their relationship with that of Clarus and Reggie.

“Forgive us,” the queen says, turning to me, still smiling. She really is as beautiful as the papers say. “Let me introduce to you my daughter, Lunafreya.”

“Hello.” The princess comes forward and greets me. She’s a spitting image of Queen Sylva, her bright blue eyes as piercing as her mother’s.

“A pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” I nod in acknowledgement.

“You wouldn’t mind if Luna accompanies us in our discussion? I intend for her to already be accustomed in dealing with such state of affairs.”

“No, Your Majesty.” I glance at Luna, who seems to be unfazed with the arrangement. I find myself wishing that the crown prince could exhibit a similar maturity in the future.

“Very well,” she says. “Shall we?”

Queen Sylva leads us inside her enormous study. Compared to the other areas, this one is fairly decorated with frames of paintings, shelves of tomes, and large windows draped in blue curtains. Blue velvet couches are perched at the center of the room. She beckons for us to take a seat; the princess sits on her side, and Candela on mine.

She gives me a tentative look before she asks, “How would you like me to address you?”

“Cor should be fine, Your Majesty,” I offer politely.

“Alright, Cor.” She nods, her expression solemn. “I hope you don’t mind my audacity, but if I may ask: you’ve sworn an oath to protect your king and your Lucian royal family, and yet here you are returning on enemy territory about to risk your life. How is that so?”

The question veiled a test. The tone of her voice was spiked with a firm challenge and an adamant curiosity that my composure begins to crack. Tenebraen women sure do know how to make men nervous.

“Your Majesty—” I muster the courage to formulate my answer— “it is with the same oath that stands to reason as to why I am here today. In service not just to my king, but to the people of Lucis as well.”

Queen Sylva’s lips purse into a reassuring smile, and the tide of my anxiety begins to ebb away. I start to wonder how I would fare with the queen if both of _them_ were here. Reggie would surely take the reins of the conversation, that much can be foreseen. Clarus, on the other hand, would probably charm the living daylights out of everyone. Some days, I wish I had both of their social prowess to save my life.

“So, you’re here under King Regis’s orders then?” the queen asks.

“Yes—though being here in Tenebrae… wasn’t exactly part of the plan.”

Truth be told, the plan was simple. Supposedly.

All I need to do here is survey Niflheim’s activities, find out the weakness of the Magitek infantry, take it out, and go back home. As straightforward as that.

It all started back in the Crown City, when King Regis summoned me in the council room right after one of their meetings. A summons after a council meeting usually meant a shitload of trouble for me, and I was almost ready to take a verbal beating.

But I was wrong.

When I got there, Reggie was fuming—a rare sight, one I wish I could unsee—at a Glaive who served as the harbinger of bad news: one of their expeditions in Cleigne led them to discover that Niflheim’s research division had been experimenting on certain species of viruses to spread amongst the masses. If this had been any normal circumstance, this news should only be a cause for alarm, something that the king knew how to handle with his usual immaculate grace.

But this issue was something more than meets the eye. It was more than just dousing an acidic threat to his people—it also opened a cruel possibility, one that rubbed salt over Reggie’s past wounds.

The virus discovered was the very same thing that took Aulea’s life years ago.

At the end of the day, under that crown is plain and simple Reggie, a man still grieving over the loss of his wife.

Maybe that’s precisely what fueled his anger to boil and explode to an unknown extent, one that Clarus and I have never witnessed in the long time we’ve all been together.

But with the same shadow of grief, we saw Reggie found his new resolve: he raised a proposition that we should send someone to go and watch the Niffs movements straight at the heart of their nation, and find out any substantial information on how we can cripple the Empire and all their ghastly experiments—their mass production of their Magitek infantry included. It would be a bold move and a risky one that has a slim chance on stopping the Empire’s advances.

But if that’s what it takes to end this bloody war, then may the gods have mercy, it was a risk we're willing to take.

As Clarus is dedicated to fulfill his role as the King’s Shield, I jumped at the chance and brazenly volunteered. Clarus and Reggie had their reservations; we were fully aware that we could always send one of our order to do the legwork, but for me, getting myself acquainted with dangers like these first hand is an opportunity for me to learn an appropriate strategy in facing the enemy. Both of them eventually allowed me to go through this; they knew better that once I set my mind onto something, nothing can persuade me otherwise.

Which now brings me here, my plan taking a complete detour. I should probably give Clarus a call once I’m finally dismissed.

“Well then.” The queen’s gentle voice pushes a pin over my balloon of thought. “A little change of plan couldn't hurt, yes? But we assure you, we’re not here to interfere—we’re here to lend a hand.”

I slightly stiffen in my seat. It takes a while to get used to their presence. I’ve been holding back this question, since Candela has already said her piece and still, I’m compelled to ask the queen herself.

“Aren’t you worried on what would the Empire have to say if they find out you’re helping someone like me?”

“Well, we’ll certainly face corporal punishment if we were found out,” the queen says sourly. She folds her hands on her lap, and goes on, “I’m quite aware that working together poses a great risk for us in Tenebrae. But the greater risk is if we sit idly by and let the Empire continue feeding on innocent lives, destroying villages for whatever goal they have in mind. I know that as Queen and the Oracle, I can only do so little without complicating this already complicated relationship with Niflheim... but the people and their safety _is_ and _will_ always be my priority. Which is why your help in this regard would be most invaluable.”

Somehow, seeing the queen’s unwavering resolve assuaged my worries. In that moment, I saw Reggie in her; an unspoken confirmation that I can truly place my trust in them.

“I can’t promise you anything, Your Majesty. But...” Truthfully, the weight of my responsibility now posed dangerous inhibitions, so I can only assure them one thing that I know is certain, one thing that I can control. “I will do my best and whatever I can.”

“Thank you, Cor. That’s more than enough for us,” the queen warmly acknowledges.

“You are most welcome. But if I may be so bold, how exactly should we go about this?”

“I believe this discussion has to wait tomorrow morning,” Candela sharply answers. “As much as we appreciate your eagerness to get this done, my informant has yet to return, so we suggest that you take this time to rest. Besides, it’s getting late and you’ve had quite a trip.”

“Indeed. No point in coming up with an appropriate approach with a tired mind and body,” the queen says as she rises from her seat. The princess gracefully follows suit. “Candela should show you to your quarters.”

The offer is too kind that I leap from my seat. “But Your Majesty, I don’t mean to impose—”

“Cor, we insist. After all, you’re our esteemed guest.” The queen fondly smiles, a gesture that seals an arrangement that I was not aware of.

Staying in Tenebrae, let alone in Fenestala Manor _,_ was definitely _not_ in my plan.

“And Cor?” Queen Sylva calls out, her expression more softened. Both Candela and I turn to face her. “Should you ever be in contact with Regis, please give him my regards.”

I reply with a smile, one which she cordially returns with her own before we finally leave the room.

 

* * *

 

My exhaustion dawns on me the instant I stepped foot on my so-called quarters. It strangely resembles an expensive hotel room in Galdin Quay, except all the greens and whites make it all too Tenebraen. The white sheets and the wafting scent of what could only be sylleblossoms are too inviting for my own good.

I sit on the edge of the bed and kick my boots off. I pull my phone out of my pocket, and I hover around Clarus’ number and contemplate on whether or not I should call him at this hour. This has been a long day, and I know I could always figure things out once I get some decent sleep.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, the thought of getting some perspective from a trusted friend as early as now could be really helpful.

I lift myself up, rub the threat of sleep out of my eyes, and finally press Clarus’ number. He picks up after the third ring.

 _“Hello?”_ Clarus surprisingly sounds more tired than I am.

“Hey, did I get you in a bad time?”

_“Not quite. My lovely wife just finished giving me the most amazing—”_

Oh dear gods, here we go again. “Right, I didn’t call so we can talk about _that."_

 _“By Ramuh’s balls, Cor—when would you ever learn how to lighten up? I was actually talking about a massage.” H_ e heartily laughs. I hate to admit it, but I already miss the company of this old buffoon. _“This has been quite a taxing day.”_

I sigh. “You and me both.”

_“Anyway. How goes your journey, my grumpy friend?”_

I explain to Clarus everything that has transpired up until this point, leaving other details out such as how Candela saved my ass back on the train in the most unconventional way I could think of, which I’m certain that he won’t let me live it down.

 _“Aren’t you in luck,”_ Clarus says, sounding impressed. _“Candela Clark, huh.”_

“I’m assuming you’ve met her?”

_“Yes, a long time ago with Regis, on one of those annual leader summits. You know, it was around that time when you still got your hands full with extra school work—”_

“Clarus.”

_“She’s a clever strategist, which I’m sure you know by now. If she offered to help you, you're at an advantage, but…”_

“But what?”

_“Candela patiently takes her time. You, on the other hand, are the exact opposite.”_

I shake my head in disbelief. “Clarus, if anything, I’ve changed—”

 _“But old habits die hard, Cor,”_ he says, his voice stern. _“You proved just as much the moment you dived right into this assignment. You may have grown to be a cranky old man, but that wayward fifteen-year-old is still alive in there somewhere.”_

“That’s—” I want to protest, but I let the sentence die at the tip of my tongue. Instead, I say: “All things considered, compared from before, I’ve mellowed out—”

 _“I’ve seen a behemoth more mellowed out than you are,”_ he argues. I can never win with this guy sometimes.

“I know you’re technically my superior, but can I just say... fuck you?”

_“Yes, because technically outside of this working relationship, we’re good old friends—so back at you, Cor. Fuck you, too.”_

We both laugh. When Clarus is in his Crownsguard or Ruling Council mode, he’s nothing less of a daunting force, and he takes no form of shit whatsoever that sometimes, I forget that he does have a funny bone in his body—albeit a scathing humour at that. Only a few people get to see this side of him. And I’m grateful to be one of those people, because now in this foreign land, I take strange solace in his good-natured sarcasm.

 _“So my word of advice is this: make use of this chance at your disposal."_ He clears his throat as he continues, “ _And please be on your best behaviour and try not to do anything brash.”_

I groan, feeling resigned. “Yes, sir.” And then, I quickly add: “Before I forget, Queen Sylva sends her regards to His Majesty.”

He huffs. _“And none for me? Please do tell her she has wounded me deeply.”_

I laugh. “Will let her know.”

“ _Be careful out there, Cor."_

“Of course.”

The phone beeps, and I flop myself on the soft sheets. I stare at the ceiling rewinding today’s events until I fall asleep.

  

* * *

 

I was already up before sunrise when the sound of dogs barking and a light series of knocking eventually came at the door.

“My lord?” calls a girl’s voice from the outside.

Such a peculiar thing to be addressed as a lord, I thought. I open the door and to my surprise, I see Princess Lunafreya, a brown-haired young girl with mismatched eyes who appears to be around the same age as the princess, and a pair of white and black dogs.

“Good morning, my lord,” the princess greets me, smiling. “Mother asked us to check on you. We sincerely hope we didn’t wake you from your sleep.”

“No, Your Highness. It’s quite alright. And please, just Cor would be fine,” I gently insist. “How can I help you?”

“Well, mother and Lady Candela requests that you join them in the common room,” she says. “We’re here to, um… sort of pick you up, is all.”

“Alright.” I swiftly grab my jacket and out the door to join my odd retinue of children and their pets, and let them guide me as we walk towards… who knows where exactly. The manor has winding halls similar to a maze.

“Oh, forgive my manners,” the princess says suddenly. “This is my friend, Briony.”

“A pleasure to meet you, sir,” the brown-haired girl says. The white dog marches alongside her with every step. “I’m Briony Clark. I hereby give you my blessing to call me Ronnie as well.”

I dart my attention to her. “Clark? Are you Candela’s—”

“Daughter? Yes," she finishes the thought on my behalf. “Well, not biologically. But since she cared and nursed for me since I was a babe, I suppose that’s enough to qualify her as my mother.”

I spy the princess casting Ronnie a meaningful look. The black dog accompanying her side nudges its nose on her white dress.

Ronnie catches it and tilts her head in confusion. “What?”

The princess says in a hushed tone, “Lady Candela said to take your sass down to a minimum.”

“Oh, right.” Ronnie pouts ruefully. “I’m sorry about that.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” I reassure them. Sassing adults is something I used to do a lot back in the day. Anyway.

Ronnie doesn’t showcase any of Candela’s physical traits, that much is certain. Compared to Candela’s well-carved jawline and flaming red hair, Ronnie's round face is a myriad of colours: full rosy lips, cheeks slightly peppered with freckles, an eerily beautiful pair of blue and gray eyes, and chocolate brown hair that waves just above her shoulders.

Despite this, it is unmistakably clear that she possesses Candela’s spitfire tongue.

“And young ladies, please—I’m no lord nor a knight. Calling me Cor would do,” I remind them.

“Okay, Cor.” Ronnie beams brightly. We take a curve around the corner and descend a flight of stairs. “Anyway, Luna! You didn’t introduce our fluffy friends.”

“Ah, yes. This good boy right here—” the princess excitedly gestures to the black dog beside her— “is Umbra.”

“And this pretty lady here is Pryna,” Ronnie pets the white dog on her side. “They’re both nice and they don’t bite… unless provoked.”

“They seem to be properly trained,” I kindly remark.

The princess smiles proudly. “They sure are.”

“Will you be joining us again this time, Your Highness?” I ask the princess.

“I’m afraid not,” she replies. “We have to attend classes this morning. Ravus and Ronnie were actually supposed to join us last evening, too—”

Ronnie grumbles, “But my math tutor was a pain in the—”

“Ronnie!”

“—chocobo butt. There.” She makes a silly face and the princess just laughs. “But it’s fine,” she presses on. “Mom did tell me all about it. She’s hatching some elaborate plan as we speak.”

I find relief to see the princess and even Ronnie rather acting their age, even for this short moment. I suddenly reflect on my own childhood—one I spent in reckless abandon—and I start to wonder how strange it must be for these children, young as they are, to be dedicating an early portion of their lives already being groomed into proper adults and being involved in affairs such as this.

I can’t help but wish that life could allow them to enjoy being children a little bit longer, even once in awhile.

The two continue their playful chatter as we walk along until we reach a door at the end of a hall. Thanks to their warm company, I was unable to take note of the directions on how we even got here. They bid their goodbyes as we part ways; the girls head back to the opposite direction, leaving me behind to face both of their mothers alone.

 

* * *

 

What a curious morning this has been so far.

I push the door open and what immediately strikes my attention is the set of Imperial armour neatly arranged over the wide wooden table.

“Good morning! Her Majesty had to attend to some urgent affairs.” Candela welcomes me as I enter the room. “I trust that you met with Luna and Briony?”

“Yes,” I answer. “I don’t think I’ll find this place without their help.”

“I hope my Briony didn't cause you some trouble.”

“Not at all,” I offer. “Considering she has your smart tongue, she was too kind to give me trouble on our way here...”

It was far too late when I realized what I just said. I see Candela raising an eyebrow and her pretty mouth curling into a smirk. “Are you insinuating that I gave you trouble, dear sir?”

“No, I didn’t—”

“Are you sassing me, Cor Leonis?”

“No.”

She looks at me, only inches away, her green eyes seriously glued with mine. In any second now, this staring game is going to give me a heart attack—

She bursts into laughter. “Gods be good, I’m just playing with you.” She saunters back to the table. “Try to lighten up a bit.”

First, Clarus. Now, Candela.

I heavily exhale the tension away. “Anyway." I step closer to the table and survey the red and black armour. Judging from the details and the condition of the plate, I can surmise that this has already been polished to spotless perfection. “How and where did you get this?”

“I told you, Cor—I have my ways, which should not be a cause for any concern. Here,” she hands me a brown folder. “Take a look at your new ID.”

I flip the file open. Inside, there is an info on a guy named _Levi Tummelt_ , a thirty-year-old brigadier general posted in Eusciello, with his photo stapled at the far right corner of the paper—short crop of brown hair and brown eyes. There’s also a town map of Narshe, which happens to be his base of operations. I quickly scan the rest of the files which includes a list of his typical schedule and the types of Magitek under his infantry unit.

I set the document down the table, analyzing each and every page. At this point, I marvel at Candela’s network and her serious attention to detail.

“So this is what’s going to happen—" Candela leans on the edge of the table as she begins to explain— “in the fortnight, Queen Sylva will be travelling to the villages east of Eusciello to perform her Oracle duties. Narshe, the third and last village in her itinerary, is situated near a production facility and is heavily guarded with MTs. It’s the only town in this continent that has been closed to visitors—the only people allowed to go inside are people with official Empire business. From what we’ve gathered from mercenaries who were lucky to make it out there, there is a secret passage that leads inside a lab of the facility somewhere around the town.

“This guy—” she snaps and points to the photo of Levi Tummelt— “is assigned by the Empire to lead the escort of Her Majesty throughout the tour, much to our dismay. Which is why even before the tour starts, I’ll have my men take him into custody. With him temporarily out of the picture, we’ll smuggle you inside Narshe by you posing as Tummelt, and from there, you infiltrate the lab through the passage. We don’t have much time once we’re inside Narshe. The Oracle will be staying and meeting with the townsfolk for an hour or so, so you have at least the same stipulated amount of time to get things done.”

I try to chew and digest the information that Candela just shared, bit by bit, portion by portion. As I do so, to help marinate this plan in my head, I start with my plethora of nagging questions: “Isn’t disguising myself as this brigadier general… a bit too much? Why not disguise as one of your Tenebraen guards? Aren’t they coming along in this tour?”

“Unfortunately, upon reaching Narshe, our own Tenebraen guards won’t be allowed to enter,” she says, somewhat annoyed—with the arrangement or with me, I’m not so sure. “Everything is entrusted to Levi Tummelt’s entourage of MTs once inside that town. If you want to get inside, we don’t exactly have much of a choice. Apart from the head officers patrolling around the public transport, the higher ups in the military are the only ones _human—_ the rest are all MTs. Hence, disguising as the general is the only chance we have.”

“But wait, I don’t look anything like this guy at all.”

She smiles cheekily. “Trust me—I’ll make you look so much like him that you won’t even recognize yourself.” Oh, right. Candela did have a different physical appearance when we first met. I internally punch myself in the face for even bringing up the poor choice of statement.

“Okay, granted that I’ll be posing as this Tummelt guy—” I pace around, trying to think on my feet— “why can’t I just directly enter the production facility? Doesn’t he have an access card to the premises?”

“Good question. Again, another misfortune: he doesn’t have access to any of the Magitek facilities. The only general that we know so far that can go inside any of the production facilities is Glauca.”

“So, if he doesn't have access… that means I can go as myself once I reach inside the lab."

“Yes. Stash this uniform and your disguise somewhere, and once you’re inside, you will do as you see fit. As soon as you’re done, you go back out the same way you came. Meaning, you have to don this suit of armour again.”

“This—can’t I just barge in on my own without having to do all _this?"_  I breathe out loud.

“Well, if you want to throw your life away, then be my guest.” She bluntly chides. It feels like a slap in the face. “See, the only reason why we’re going with these extremely delicate measures is that thanks to the little stunt you pulled eight years ago stealing that clone, the Empire heightened the security _everywhere_ —not just their labs, but even the towns, and I’m certain you’ve seen how they vigilantly patrol even in the train stations, yes? So there you have it.” Candela didn’t mince any of her words, and the slap became a stab in the gut. Multiple stabs to say the least.

“Look, Besithia may have been an idiot before, but he’s never bound to make the same mistake twice. Also—” she hands me a folded piece of paper **—** “you might want to look at this.”

I take the sheet out of her hands and I unfold it. It’s appears to be a flyer with a drawn photo of a wanted man…

“Is this… supposed to be me?”

“Poor artist, I know. Didn’t even get your impeccable cheekbones right.” She lightly shrugs, tucking a stray strand of her fiery hair behind her ear. Was that a compliment? “This has been all around the villages. I had my men take these things down before it spreads to Gralea.”

“You have my thanks,” I say.

“Don’t mention it.”

“So, with regards to Tummelt," I say, shifting the topic back to our order of business. “What happens to him after the tour?”

“We won’t kill him, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Her hands on her waist, her lips quirks into a vicious smile. “We’ll send him back with no memory whatsoever.”

“Oh. Okay.” I nod. For the second time, I make a mental note not to cross Candela. “To make sure I get this right—” I take a deep breath as I recount out all the details in my head and recite it to her like an oath— “in a nutshell, what I need to do is to pretend to be Tummelt, and once we reach Narshe, I take the passage going to the production facility, hide my disguise somewhere, deal with the lab, and go back out with the same disguise. All of that in an hour.”

She flashes a satisfied smile. “Precisely.”

“All in two weeks, huh…”

“Yes. In two weeks, I’ll teach you how to be somebody else—I’ll teach you how to be your enemy.”

It must have been how Candela said all of it, seducing me with the idea, or how she stood there with her eyes unflinching, or probably just being in this uncharted terrain that I feel my blood pumping right out of my skin.

Clarus is right, I suppose. Old habits die hard. I still thirst for danger.

 


	3. Fire and Ice, You and I

It’s a bizarre thing to look in the mirror and see a completely different person.

And I don’t even mean it in a profound, philosophical sense — I mean it _literally_. The face in the mirror has a more pointed nose, fuller cheeks, and a rounder jaw. And it looks too _natural_. Not to mention, it wears a hideous Imperial uniform.

As I survey and poke on this strange elastic material pasted on my face, I ruminate on this equally exhausting and productive past week and a half.

First, I can finally say that I’ve eased into this temporary life behind enemy lines. Right after the initial discussion on what needs to be done regarding Operation Narshe—a name eagerly dubbed by Ronnie and Princess Luna at some point during dinner—Candela gave a detailed briefing on what I should know about the Empire. She showed me photos of important men and women from their different Imperial houses, and the ones who are in the higher ranks in the military and politics. Their names were written in the photos. _Caligo Ulldor. Markus June. Caliope Hestia. Chancellor Ardyn Izunia. Emperor Iedolas Aldercapt. Empress Sophia Aldercapt._ Seeing the photo of the empress reminded me of the foul rumors running around back on the train.  

Alongside that hefty information about the Empire, she also graciously provided me a map of the region, a detailed bestiary, and a list of hunts to allow me to navigate and familiarize the lay of the land. Of course, Candela wouldn't permit that I leave the manor as merely myself, hence she generously revised my previous ID ( _Gilderoy Lockhart_ —a name I nicked from one of the crown prince’s books I once read to him) and loaned me an easy and suitable disguise for me to use. (Not this one I’m wearing at the moment, but still, a tedious disguise all the same.)

Thanks to her kind gesture, I was able to travel as far as the border of Gralea without raising unwarranted attention. The weather proved to be a slight challenge as it was too unpredictable—one day there can be a steaming sandstorm in Ghorovas Rift, and a freezing snowstorm the next. The hunters say it’s the Astrals’ wrath on Niflheim for destroying the environment and for all the lives they have taken. In any case, I was able to pull through. May it be luck or the Astrals blessing, I would never know.

I suppose it’s also worth noting that the hunts that I accomplished have immensely helped me to earn the trust of the local hunters and Imperial patrol officers alike; taking down a team of malboros was a cinch, but their daemon problem is a different story altogether. It wasn't exactly difficult even if they marked it as a grade A hunt, but these gargoyles and arachnes surely are of a different caliber compared to the daemons I’ve already seen back in Lucis.

And it’s a surreal feeling, too, standing and exploring an enemy territory in broad daylight. I admit that I’ve always taken pride in my stealth, and Candela’s approach is far different from my usual methods. Hers was a method too foreign to me that I didn't immediately welcome with open arms, which did cause a heated discussion at some point. But given the past few days wearing a face that is not my own, I realized that there’s an odd feeling of liberation on being someone else entirely. No moniker to insult my name. A fleeting moment to escape myself, sort of.

But suffice to say, after all the hunts and traversing even just a portion of this continent, Candela’s right—the Empire did tighten the security in all areas possible. Even went so far as to execute any suspected Lucians right on the spot. I now understand what Candela meant back on the train; I’d have been a bigger fool if I discarded the obvious changes around here.

If only I had known that my actions eight years ago would have its grave repercussions across the entire region, I would have done things differently. Not that I regret stealing the clone—I don’t _ever_ regret giving the clone I stole a chance at life. At being human. When I saw the boy living a normal life back in Insomnia with his foster family, I thought that maybe, for once, I did something right.

As for the ones I left behind that wretched lab, I will bear that burden and let it haunt me for the rest of my days…

Anyway. I digress.

So the second thing that occupied half of my days was researching this guy _Levi Tummelt_. A couple of things I learned about him is that he is unmarried, has a younger brother who looks nothing like him, and that he’s too fastidious to a fault. In terms of his fighting prowess, it’s noted that he isn’t that much of a skilled swordsman. In light of this effort, Candela allowed me to utilize her library should I ever need to do a more intensive study, as long as I promise not to break or mess any books, which I happily obliged. It’s one of the things I learned about Candela: her fondness for books. I think she may even like her books more than she likes people. Can’t really blame her. Needless to say, Candela and I are getting along swimmingly, despite the busy schedule and the occasional arguments—

“Paging Cor Leonis—I repeat, paging Cor Leonis,” Candela’s voice shoves me outside the realm of my thoughts. “If he’s still inside that armor somewhere, please let him know that I need his full and undivided attention.”

And that, too. Her relentless teasing.

I watch her through this full body mirror as she’s standing beside me. The stark difference in our height is in perfect view. “How long have you been there?”

“About five minutes, tops,” she replies, looking back at me through the mirror. “Ten, if you include me knocking on your door.”

“Sorry, I was just…”

“Spacing out or admiring my work?”

“A little bit of both.”

She beams. “Well, that has to be one of my best works yet,” she circles around and stops right in front of me, sizing me up and down. “You look so much like General Tummelt now. I’m relieved that you’re not allergic to liquid latex. And it’s also a good thing that you share the same hair color with the general. The brown contacts suit you, too, but I still prefer your blue eyes at any given day.”

“Um, thanks?” I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. Again. But it is true. The attention to detail is unreal—this thing looks _and_ feels like skin. To mold something like this takes fine talent and meticulous craftsmanship.

“Here, another handy device,” Candela shows me a tiny black gadget the size of a bullet. “Let me put this on you.” She waves her hand and signals me to bend lower, reaching for the nape of my neck.

“What is this thing?” I feel the coldness of metal as she attaches the device on my skin.

“Try talking again,” she instructs.

“Uh, sure—” I say, but the words that tumble out of my mouth doesn’t seem like my own.

My voice has changed to a more high pitch shrill. Candela laughs in amusement.

“Is this how that Tummelt sounds like?” I ask her, my hand fiddling with the gadget at the back of my neck. Talking further is now an out of body experience.

“Yes—for someone who has the same build and height as you, his voice is a bit whiny if you ask me,” she remarks.

“You met him before?” It would take a while to get used to this strange voice.

“A couple of times. The last one was in an Imperial gala. Anyway,” she moves and takes a seat on the couch from across the room. “With regards to our departure three days from now…”

I turn to her. “What about it?”

She looks solemn, and says, “I’ve decided I’ll come with you when you infiltrate the lab.”

Without even considering what her reaction would be, my response to this matter is automatic: “No.”

Candela’s confusion wrinkles her face. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said no,” I repeat sternly. I walk over to her while unequipping the armor I have donned layer by layer, setting it aside on the table in front of her. I detach the device from my neck. “No. You’re not going with me.”

Now hearing the sound of my own voice rejecting her idea feels a lot more apt.

She folds her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

“No, you weren’t—this is me telling you what you need to do.”

“Well, I believe this warrants a discussion!” She adamantly protests, rising from her seat.

“Okay, allow me to ask you something, if I may.” I carefully peel the mask off my face and take off the contact lenses. It feels strange that I’m talking to her with this face on. I hand it all over to Candela and she primly tucks it inside a box back to her safekeeping without breaking eye contact, ready to pounce on anything I have to say.

“Do you know how to fight?”

“I know how to shoot a gun.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how confident are you with your shooting skills?”

“Seven and a half.” My eyes sharply narrow at her. She relents and she rolls her eyes. “Okay fine—five!”

“Do you know how to wield a sword?”

“Yes, the pointy end should do the trick—”

“No, that doesn’t count.”

“Are you always this stubborn?”

“And are you always this difficult?”

“No, but you _make_ me,” she glares at me, rising from her seat. “Cor, I think can defend myself.”

“You think? So if I ask you to spar with me right here and now, do you _think_ you can confidently convince me that you will be able to stand your ground for even a fraction of a minute?”

“Well, given your fighting abilities, I’d say it’s unfair and I’ll be at a disadvantage—”

“Real battles are always _unfair,_ Candela. If you want to throw your life away, then fine. Be my guest.” I hurl the same words back at her and sharply assert my stand before I press further: “Look—first of all, I greatly appreciate all your help. For working with me. Without your intel, I probably would have been floundering on what to do next. I understand that we’re leaving in three days, and we should have made this clear before and now I’m making it clearer, more than ever: you take care of the intel work while you leave the battlefield and all the dirty work to me. You’ve been doing your part—so once we’re out there, let me do _mine_. We have no idea what sort of monsters the Empire are breeding in those labs now. And your queen needs you and I can’t have you risking your life under my watch. Understood?”

She gapes at me, wordless. Her face gradually falls to an expression I cannot decipher. It was neither her usual iron-willed temperament nor the seething anger that I was expecting. Was she… worried? Anxious?

The silence grew thick.

“Candela.” I move closer to her. Something in my gut tells me that there’s something else that I need to know. “What are you really after?”

She fixes her eyes on the floor. “Like I told you, the same thing you’re after. Whatever’s inside that thing—”

“Candela, I won’t ask you to fully trust me—that’s a lot to ask from anyone,” I cut her off. “But if we are to work together, we need a little bit more transparency—”

“Cor—” she looks at me, hesitating. “Nevermind. I apologize for bringing it up.” She says finally and softly, taking her gaze away from mine.

“Alright,” I watch her curiously, deciding to let go of the subject and not to push further. I’m honestly not used to her backing down that easily without saying something sassy. “You’re not thinking on going on your own once we’re there, are you?”

“I’m considering it.”

“Candela.”

“I’m kidding,” she snickers, rolling her eyes playfully. That was a quick recovery. “You have a valid point. I promise I won’t interfere.” She pulls a tight-lipped smile before she exits the room.

And just when I thought I understood her. So much for getting along swimmingly.

 

* * *

 

One of the many things that I came to appreciate in Fenestala Manor is the big oak tree that sits in the middle of the sylleblossom field, just right outside the estate. Since I have no more hunts to occupy my time, I decide to sit under the tree and watch the sun gently turn the sky ablaze in a fiery orange, bathing the blue shade of the sylleblossoms in a thin veil of reddish yellow. Candela’s face peeks at the corner of my mind. I blink it away.

“What’cha up to?” a girl’s voice suddenly calls out of nowhere. Following the direction of the voice, I look up, and I see Ronnie high above, sitting on one of the branches.

I stand up, startled. “What are you doing up there?”

She begins to descend, one branch at a time, and she lands gracefully in front of me, her backpack and green dress mired with dirt. “Hiding from my math tutor. My mom didn’t send you to come find me, did she?”

I shake my head. “No. I was just here… admiring the view.”

“The sunset’s pretty beautiful out here, isn’t it?”

I nod. “Indeed.” Then, I ask: “What do you have up there?”

“Just books from my mom. She gives me one every year, so I made that spot up there my reading spot. So,” she adjusts the tie of her chocolate brown hair as she sits on the ground, “you guys have an argument again?”

“Not… quite.” I bite my lip in denial. I sit together with her. How did she even know that in the first place?

“You’re lying,” she says, her mismatched eyes brimming with suspicion.

“I’m sorry?”

“Well, Luna and I—for the past few days, we noticed that every time you and mom have an argument over something, you always go here. Right in this spot.”

I probably wouldn't have noticed it if Ronnie didn't point it out, but she’s right, I guess. This spot under the oak tree has become an odd habit: when I find myself needing a breather from any Candela-related tension, I retreat in this humble little space. I sure did underestimate the perceptiveness of this kid.

“An astute observation, detective,” I commend her. “How old are you again?”

“Ten years old, sir!” She beams brightly, just like her mother.

“So you and the princess have been watching me?” I ask, deeply curious.

“Yes! No, uh well—” Ronnie stammers and pauses, calculating whether or not to reveal the truth. “The cat’s now out of the bag, I suppose,” she admits and pouts ruefully. “You see, Luna and I... have an ongoing bet. Whoever gets to witness you smile first will get to receive math homework immunity for a day — the losing party will get to do the work. Bonus points if anyone of us gets to personally make you smile. The winner gets the loser’s dessert for a day. We didn’t really aim for the bonus points because most of the time, we chicken out. Cor, please don’t tell Luna I told you. Oh, and our moms, too.”

“Sure.”

“Do you pinky promise?” She raises her right hand, her tiny pinky finger pointing upward and ready to seal a one-sided deal.

“I, uh… yes.” I curl mine around hers. She nods in satisfaction.

Now that I think about it, that explains a lot why the both of them are either hanging out at the library or just somewhere near my proximity whenever they’re done with school for the day. I thought I was just imagining things. I laugh at the memory of it—

“Oh, blessed be the Stars!” Ronnie suddenly exclaims with unabashed excitement that she yanks my hand forward.

“What is it—”

“No, please keep doing what you’re doing—” she’s happily scrambles something from her backpack and takes out an instant camera. Her upbeat spirit is highly contagious that I can’t help but smile. And laugh, even. Suddenly, a blinding flash erupts from her camera; a photo prints from the front.

“Wait for it—” she shakes the print and holds it up to examine it. “There! I’m so glad to have seen you not just smile—you _laughed_ , too! It’s like waiting for a shooting star and actually seeing one!”

The smile seems to be stuck on my face; an unfamiliar sensation, to be honest. Watching Ronnie and her excitement over something like this reminds me of younger days.

She presents me the photo; it’s my smiling face, one that even _I_ rarely see myself doing back at home. “Not bad, kid,” I praise her. “But, you know you could have just asked me, right?”

“Yes, but where’s the fun in that?” She grins from ear to ear, the blue and grey colors of her oddly-paired eyes illuminate with her delight. “Besides, you’re scary sometimes.”

Wounded, I prod deeper, “Do… I really give off the impression?”

She furrows her brows like I asked something outrageous. “Uh, yeah? Like, you’re always ready to stab anyone with a sword. But, after seeing you laugh now, I’m happy to report that you’re one hundred percent human!” She raises her hand in a salute.

“At ease, soldier.” I command mockingly and we both smile. “I’m glad to hear that. I mean, when you said the one hundred percent human part.”

“Though you have nothing to worry about. Mom still likes you even if you’re scary,” she adds.

“What do you mean by that exactly?”

“You don’t understand a thing about women, do you?” She stares at me, looking positively amused. To think the day has arrived when a ten-year-old girl would lecture me about my knowledge on women. “What I mean is—” Ronnie straightens her dress as she stands up, and she continues— “you may think mom may be giving you a hard time but… it’s just that you challenge her. Like, in a good way? So she just pushes back in her own way. I guess, that’s what I think. I’m just rambling and thinking out loud, so you don’t have to listen to me—”

I now haul myself up, brushing the dirt off my trousers. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an interesting kid?”

“Yes. You’re probably, like, the eighth person to tell me that so far, so thanks! Anyway,” Ronnie then gives me a quick hug, “gotta run before my mom finds out I skipped math tutor again! And thanks for the photo!”

Ronnie sprints along the sylleblossom field and back to the manor. The sun has sunk into the horizon together with the bittersweet memories of my own childhood when I make my way back to my room.

 

* * *

 

The clock on the bedside table beeps twelve twenty-seven a.m.; I’ve been chasing sleep, and I’ve tried alternating between staring at the ceiling and forcing my eyes shut—both of which have failed me miserably.

Whether I open or close my eyes, I think about the facility I infiltrated eight years ago. I think about how in three days, I get a second chance to set things on a different course. I think about all the worst case scenarios and all the best ones.

But in each scenario, regardless of the outcome, after all of this is over I’ll be parting ways with Candela. Which should be well and good. But there’s a stubborn feeling in my chest that I can’t shake off...

I can’t be thinking about this.

I lift myself up and I fiddle with my phone, carefully considering the option of reaching out to Clarus. Or Cid. I know that both of them are usually awake at this ungodly hour…

But I hate to be the asshole who calls them at this time, so I eventually discard the idea. A walk or the library should probably do the trick.

I grab my jacket, I sneak out of my premises and onto the dimly lit halls. Thankfully, I already have the layout of this manor memorized. I quietly pad along the corridors, ascend the stairs, and take the second door to the right. I slowly turn the knob and push the door open.

The library is fairly dark, save for the lights on the desks illuminating small patches of the room. I notice that the far end of the aisle is much brighter. I probe closer, and I see Candela with her back facing me, her hair tied into a high disheveled bun, buried between piles of books.

I make my approach, careful not disturb her. But she turns around—

“Oh gods, it’s just you—” she squeaks, then sighing in what could only be out of relief. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“I’m sorry. Can’t sleep. What are you doing up so late?”

“Working. And researching. Finalizing some details in Her Majesty’s itinerary.” She taps the pen on one of the notebooks sitting at the edge of the table.

“I see. Pardon my intrusion—”

“No, it’s alright,” she straightens up. “Maybe I need you to talk to me so I can stay awake.”

“Alright.” I gesture at the seat in front of her. “May I?”

“Yes, please.” She returns back to her heap and resumes to her writing.

I take a seat and briefly examine her face. “I haven't seen you this tired,” I note out loud.

“I’m just good at hiding it by day. My exhaustion reveals itself by evening, mostly when no one’s around,” she quips, tapping a pen on the tip of her nose. “Besides, being perpetually tired is my job, Cor. Yours too, I believe.”

“Touché.”

“Oh, and um…”

“Yes?”

“I’m really sorry for how I acted earlier,” she says.

“It’s fine—I’m certain you have your reasons,” I offer. Like walking on thin ice, I carefully tiptoe around the subject, so I ask as politely as I can: “Is… there something on your mind?”

“A lot of things,” she hums as she sets her pen down and rests both her elbows in the table. “First, there’s Briony…”

“What about her?”

“She’s growing up way too fast, and I’m afraid that I might miss a lot of important moments of her life because of my work… I know she’s not my flesh and blood, but I love her fiercely and it pains me that the past few weeks I only get to talk to her before she goes to sleep. Or in the morning before she goes to school. Just… does that make me a bad parent?”

“Of course not,” I honestly assure her. “If anything, Ronnie’s a good kid. Mature for her age, even. I’m sure she understands your duty.”

It’s a small step, having her open up like this. Listening to her sharing about her personal struggles of raising a kid reminds me of a similar conversation some time ago with Clarus. I know I’m no parent and should not be entitled to any opinion on this matter, but what I know to be true is this: Parents like Clarus and Candela and the sacrifices that they make are born out of their love not just for the duties they signed up for, but also for their families. They're good parents faced with hard circumstances, is all.

“Thank you. For saying that. And yes, I agree — Briony’s a little too wise for her age.” She smiles proudly. “Since we’re at the subject of family… do you have one back in Lucis?”

I shake my head. “No. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… to be honest, sometimes, I can’t help but feel regret. For dragging you into this. I feel like I’m somehow keeping you away from people you love and your friends. And sometimes I see you and you look so sullen and sad, I thought that maybe you miss your family and you want to go back home—”

“Candela, it’s alright,” I affirm. “I made my choice and I’m glad to be doing this service to the people back at home. Also, this is just how… uh, my normal face looks like.”

“Oh. Okay.” A sweet smile flickers across her face while I remain under the scrutiny of her green eyes. “So, no family… surely there must be a significant other? A woman or a man you go home to?”

“No luck in that department, too,” I tell her. “How about you?”

“No. Been married to this duty ever since.”

“Do tell.” We share a quiet laughter. The warm glow of the desk light illuminates her face and her auburn hair, and I find myself wishing I could take down the books blocking the entire view…

But my eyes land on one of the spines of the books she has haphazardly surrounded herself with—a copy of Niflheim’s lore and history—that a sudden thought occurred to me, one that has quietly bothered the corners of my brain since I read those headlines back in the train.

Maybe Candela’s intensive network may cast some light on the other pressing matters involving the Empire. “So I was wondering—you mentioned of having little whisperers, as you’d like to call it.”

“Yes,” she shifts a little in her seat. “What about it?”

“Call it out of curiosity but are any of those rumors about Niflheim’s empress true?”

The expression from her face drops and darkens at the question. “She’s alive, if that’s what you're curious about,” she discloses, biting her lip. “But she’s… not well. Her second child being taken away from her took its toll on her mental health—”

“Second child?”

“Their first born… died at birth a decade ago,” she says. “As a mother, losing your child is already difficult as it is. I cannot for the life of me imagine the pain she has to go through of losing another.”

“What about the emperor? Surely he hasn’t allowed—”

“Oh, but he has. Iedolas has changed significantly ever since that chancellor arrived,” she says all too bitterly.

I allow this appalling confirmation to simmer. But then, I press forth: “You say that the child has been taken… where?”

Candela grimly stares at me, and I watch her mouth quiver, how she’s cautiously choosing the next words to say. “That’s… what we’re about to find out in Narshe.”

Something in my head clicks like a switch.

“Is this why you wanted to come to the lab with me?”

“I guess you can say that,” she replies with a nod. “I… I would like to further tell this tragic tale, but I suppose it’s a story best saved at a different time. It is, after all, getting late.”

“I understand. I’m sorry for prying,” even if my interest has gotten the best of me, a pang of guilt rises in my chest; I feel like I’ve stepped on a landmine of a subject, one which Candela was not ready to open anytime soon.

She shuts the book in front of her. “It’s alright. Thank you for staying with me, Cor. It was really nice talking to you—you know, without us ending up in a debate.” She cheekily grins as she stands taking her book pile, returning it to the nearby shelves. She climbs the small stepladder to reach for the higher rows.

“Likewise,” I walk over to the other side of the stepladder to help her with the remaining books until the desk is empty, handing it to her one by one. “I can’t say I’ll finally be able to sleep sometime soon,” I confess.

“That’s quite unfortunate,” she laughs, finally completing this tiny clean-up. “Maybe this will help.”

From the platform where she’s standing, she leans down to me, and with my face just a few short breaths away from hers, Candela’s lips stop on mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just imply that I have a headcanon that Cor babysits Noct and reads him Harry Potter from time to time? Yes. Yes, I did. Cor being naturally good with kids is a headcanon I would live and die for.


	4. Hot Hot Heat

The next thing I know, I was in Candela’s quarters, shedding one piece of clothing after another. The movement was swift and hungry, like the both of us have been deprived of touch. Our lips make vigorous conversation, our hands travelling on each other until there’s nothing left of fabric to shed. I lift her up and she wraps her legs around me as I steer her onto her bed.

She lands on her back while I tower above her, our lips still busy ravishing each other’s skin.

A part of me says that what I’m about to do is stupid. Irrational. That part of me wants me to stop this nonsense at once—the gods are going to punish me for taking a woman while I’m in the line of duty.

But may the gods have mercy—for once, let me _feel_ and let me _live_.

However, for the sake of all things that are good, I quickly ask Candela: “Are you sure about this—”

“Yes,” she answers hurriedly, her hands desperately clinging onto my neck. “Also, I’m on the pill.” She interrupts my need to respond by pulling me forward and drowning me with another kiss.

“Finally,” I momentarily break away, gasping for air, “a taste of your pretty smart mouth.”

Her eyes heavy-lidded, she grins. “And finally a taste of your grumpy little mouth.”

“Care to share what I taste like?”

“Excellent,” her mouth reaches for the skin on my neck and takes a _bite_. It took a lot of willpower to stop myself from turning her over and taking her in that instant as I held onto my principle of delayed gratification.

I’d rather take my time and consume her inch by aching inch.

My hands and mouth resume to roam the expanse of her bare skin, not leaving one spot untouched. She writhes helplessly beneath me as I traverse each part with a kiss: the crook of her neck, down to the small of her breasts, to the curves of her waist, drifting down to position my face between the soft flesh of her thighs.

I didn't waste a moment to take her in my mouth and savour her, drinking her taste as if I’m a man parched. I knew I was doing something right when she begins to moan and chant my name like a prayer.

“Cor, _Cor_ —give me a _fucking_ break, ah—”

Her hands rake and grasp for my hair as I relentlessly take her to the edge with my tongue, gripping her thighs, relishing her over and over until she reaches her climax.

“Oh my _gods_ ,” she’s heaving and panting, catching her breath. “You’re fucking merciless, you know that—”

I climb on top of her and shut her up with my mouth. This time, my fingers slide down between her legs and I let it do the talking. My mouth returns to the valley of her breasts as my fingers pump and curl in languid motions, going quicker and faster until she fiercely claws my shoulders and screams my name, coming undone.

“Cor _fucking_ Leonis—” she breathlessly slaps me in the arm— “are you sure you’re not trying to kill me by making me orgasm all night?

“I can stop now if you want,” I tease. I didn’t know I’d find strange pleasure just watching Candela this vulnerable.

She impatiently groans, “Just put it in, gods be damned—”

I take that as my cue to push open her legs and thrust myself inside her. As my hips pummel in a rapid pace, her fingers viciously scratch my back for purchase. The sound she makes, every cry and whimper, makes me go faster—

Candela then pushes me forward and onto my back. I catch myself staring wide-eyed as she now mounts on top of me so gracefully.

“I’ll make sure no other woman in Eos will ride you like I do,” she moans. I watch her with pure and unadulterated adoration as she rocks me with her body, her hips rolling in rhythm, her breasts quaking with her every move.

Seeing her like this, a fuse burns within in me that I squeeze her by the waist and roughly buck my hips upward.

“Cor, you’re not playing fair—”

“Who fucking said—” I growl in each thrust—“I was playing fair?”

From underneath, I pound her harder and faster, grabbing her ass as she struggles to keep herself upright, her fingers tracing stinging outlines on my chest. Harder and faster we went as we both crash to our release. Candela collapses on my chest in beautiful ragged breaths. I hold her close, basking in the sweet scent of her skin.

That has got to be the best sex of my life.

“Goodness,” she laughs, still short of breath, “if I had known your mouth could work like _that_ , I should have teased you further back on that train ride.”

“Well, we still have all night to make up for it,” I propose, planting a kiss on her forehead. She squeals in surprise when I suddenly flip her over for another round.

For once, I let the logic of my duty fly out the window tonight.

 

* * *

 

We went on and on until the soft rays of sunrise seeped through the window.

I spent the night decrypting all the codes of Candela’s body, studying every curve and scar with my fingers and my mouth, and marveled at how beautiful she bends and twists and arches with just the right touch. How her voice swells with pleasure. How her lips tremble with desire.

A woman’s body is truly an unearthly masterpiece.

 

* * *

 

“Rise and shine, pretty boy.”

Like out of a dream, a sweet lilting voice pushes me out of my sleep. I roll over to my side, expecting to feel the coldness of the empty silk sheets on the other side of the bed.

But instead, my hand finds warmth, soft skin and flesh. I open my eyes and I see a woman’s face inches from mine, her green eyes bold and curiously watching me.

And she’s naked. And so am I.

All at once, I’m wide awake that I sit up hastily, pulling the covers. She laughs—even her laughter is dreamy, for the love of Bahamut —and she pulls herself up, the roundness of her bottom in full view, the blazing auburn hair sweeping gracefully behind her back, each movement of her body nothing less than sultry. She exhibits the bites and marks all over her body like a painting in full display. She picks up my button up shirt on the floor and wears it like it’s meant for her.

“You look as if you’ve forgotten my name,” she teases.

Far from it, I thought. Of all the things I’ve forgotten, her name is one I can never forget.

“You look beautiful, Candela,” I tell her.

She walks back to the bed and crawls her way to me. “That’s probably the nicest thing you said to me so far. Or is it because I’m wearing your clothes?”

“You look far more beautiful wearing nothing.”

“My, someone’s spirited,” she smirks, and before I can even form a reply, she silences me with a kiss. She sits on top of me, her thighs straddling my hips. “I’m sorry for all the, um… scratches.”

“What do you mean?” I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“There’s a lot on your back and here,” her hands wander down to my chest. I look down and true enough, I’m covered in scratch marks in varying shades of pink and crimson. “Wait, let me get a first aid kit—”

Before she can escape my grasp, I gently seize her hips. “It’s fine. Stay with me,” I nuzzle my head in the curve of her neck. “Just a little longer.”

“But we have to clean that,” she mewls as I nibble a portion of her skin.

“No,” I whisper, “I’d gladly wear these marks of yours with pride.”

My hands return to the softness of her thighs,  the contours of her flesh, the ripeness of her breasts, and—

“Mom?”

The door swings open and Candela swiftly dismounts herself from me, while I sit up and fumble to grab for the sheets.

There goes Ronnie, standing by the door, seemingly unfazed.

She bites her lip and her eyes warily narrow at me, as if examining my deepest thoughts. Not a while longer, she looks back at her mother.

“Yes, my love?” Candela beckons for her to come nearer. I look at Candela, who just gives me a gentle and assuring smile. Considering that her daughter just happened to walk in on us, she looks particularly untroubled.

“Nevermind,” she rolls her eyes and smiles. “So. Mom, I already made breakfast. And Her Majesty mentioned that she has something to discuss with the both of you with Ravus…”

“Tell her we’ll be right over,” Candela says eagerly. “And Briony darling?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too, Mom—but please get dressed.”

“I will. I’ll see you downstairs,” she blows Ronnie a kiss. Her equally feisty little daughter pretends to catch it, and then makes a bow and arrow motions in the air, and acts to attach the kiss at the end arrow, and shoots right at me.

“Just returning it to the rightful owner,” she giggles as she leaves the room.

A shot of laughter erupts from Candela. “Please forgive Briony. She’s too much—”

“Like you,” I finish the sentence for her. She gives my face a gentle shove, and we both laugh.

“And when did you get so snarky?”

“I learned a great deal from you.” I smile at her. She cocks her head in amusement. Candela slowly cups my face in the smallness of her hands and stares into my eyes before she presses her lips against mine. Somehow, my answer earns me a kiss long enough for me to survive a drought.

“Anyway,” Candela harshly departs from my mouth as she takes my hand and pulls me out of the bed with her. “Come now, let’s get all cleaned up and get dressed. My queen awaits!”

 

* * *

 

The common room was teeming with youthful energy when Candela and I came in. Princess Lunafreya was busy reading by one of the couches with Pryna on her side, while Umbra was tailing after Ronnie, who was busy arguing with a tall silver-haired boy by the piano.

And behind the desk sat Queen Sylva, a book in hand, peacefully reading in the middle of the restlessness.

She peers away from her book when she notices our arrival.

“There you both are,” the queen rises and walks toward us, greeting us with her solemn smile on her face. She gives Candela a peck on the cheek. “I trust that you’ve slept well?”

“Yes, quite well, Your Majesty,” Candela lies all too convincingly.

“Good. I heard.” She flashes Candela and I a knowing smile.

It took a while for me to register what she meant and the moment the realization arrived, I feel my face burning away in embarrassment.

“Your Majesty, I’m terribly sorry—” Candela and I both scrabble around in chorus.

“Oh hush, you two,” she laughs cheekily. “I’m glad that you two have gotten along rather quite nicely. In more ways than one.”

Candela and I share red-faced glances. This officially has to be the most embarrassing moment of my life. The only fun thing about it is I get to share it with someone else.

Without warning, Ronnie dashes in our direction, immediately wrapping her arms around Candela’s waist.

“Mom, please tell Ravus here that cactuars are significantly better and _cuter_ than chocobos!” Ronnie points at the approaching tall teenager.

“Lady Candela, I implore you—please do not encourage Ronnie’s flight of fancy. Chocobos are far more hospitable and docile creatures and must not be compared with those insufferable things!” He strongly argues as he stands just beside his mother. Up close, he’s even taller than Queen Sylva.

“Why you little—”

“Is this another one of your so-called educational discourse, darling?” Candela interrupts this tiny debacle.

Ronnie nods vehemently and hisses at Ravus. He gives her a deathly glare.

I feel like a bystander watching all of this, but it brings me an unusual feeling of comfort. This kind of bickering reminds me of home, the one that Clarus’ son and the crown prince usually get themselves into whenever they don’t get along at family dinners.

“Darlings, permit me to interrupt but I believe the answer is quite simple,” the queen humbly declares. She turns to Ravus and then to Ronnie, “Each creature have their differences, yes?”

They both nod in agreement.

“So,” the queen carries on, “cactuars are sharp like you, my sweet Briony; while chocobos, on the other hand, are amiable like you, Ravus. You may see them fighting from time to time, but in harmony they coexist. Simply put, I think both are smart and majestic creatures which should deserve love and admiration.”

Ravus wearily sighs, “And that should conclude our discussion. I owe you my thanks, Mother.” Queen Sylva replies with a smile. Her wisdom truly knows no bounds.

“That’s a really perfect way of putting it, Your Majesty,” Ronnie also acknowledges, and then turns to Ravus. “However, given that Queen Sylva settled this for us, you don't get to have the credit,” Ronnie sticks her tongue out at Ravus as she scurries along back to the piano, where Umbra sat waiting for her return.

“Briony makes my head hurt. In a good way,” Ravus groans in defeat. “She has too much of your sharpness, Lady Candela.”

A shock of laughter bursts from all of us. I can’t help but agree — Ronnie does indeed possess Candela’s striking shrewdness, with her feistiness to boot.

“My dear Ravus, you flatter me so.” She brightly grins.

“Oh, do forgive me for forgetting my manners in the middle of that excitement,” the queen gently chimes in. “Cor, I believe I haven't introduced you to my son, Ravus. He has been quite busy spending most of his time in the Capital these last couple of weeks. He, too, will be joining us in the tour.”

“Good morning and a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness,” I say.

“Pleased to meet you, sir. I’ve heard a lot about your adventures in Lucis. Oh, and um—please, Ravus would be just fine.” He sheepishly bows and smiles. “Oh, and you have nothing to worry about. I may be spending my time with the Empire a lot these days, but my loyalty is with my family.”

“Of course, Your Highness. I understand you’re dutifully fulfilling your responsibilities,” I assure him. “Also, calling me Cor would do just fine.” Curious as to how the prince could know about someone like me, I had to ask: “You mentioned you’ve heard about me?”

“Yes, sir—I mean, Cor. You’re quite revered around here by mercenaries, most especially the ones who have travelled in Lucis. Notorious but recklessly noble, is what they say,” Ravus fervently notes. He then turns to his mother, “I suppose we can attend to the matters at hand?”

“Indeed,” Queen Sylva ushers us toward the wooden table in the middle of the room, a map of Niflheim and Narshe spread wide open in its surface. Candela and Ravus stand by the queen’s side while I take the other end. “Ravus, if you may.”

“Yes, Mother,” he nods rather nervously. I know I shouldn't even be surprised at this point to see these children being involved with these Imperial matters, but to witness Ravus about to take the helm of this discussion, I can say that I’m genuinely impressed.

“Some good news from the Capital,” he begins, tucking both his hands behind him. “The high commander and the higher ups have given their approval. His Imperial Majesty is even quite pleased. Says that our offer to let the kind General Tummelt stay overnight before the tour is too generous of us.”

“Perfect. Everything’s in place now,” Candela pulls her devilish smirk and nods at Ravus. “After all, they will be doing us the divine duty of protecting the Oracle in this endeavor. One just has to say all the right words to rub their ego and give it a good kiss.”

“So the real Levi Tummelt will be coming over?” I ask, confused with the arrangement.

“Not quite,” Candela answers. “Together with Prince Ravus, we will meet them in Piztala. You’ll pose as one of our guards. Besides, I don’t want that creep anywhere near this manor.”

“Oh, Candela. He took this bait quite perfectly because of you,” Queen Sylva teases. “You should be proud.”

“I take it that this general fancies you?” I probe again.

“Oh, more than fancy, sir,” Ravus cuts in, amusement coloring his face. “The general is known to be a perfectionist, but when it comes to Lady Candela, he abandons all forms of principle.”

With that additional nugget of information about this guy I will be disguising as, I feel as if I might punch my pretend-Tummelt face if I see myself in the mirror.

“Which is why I’m using it to our advantage to make this work,” Candela scoffs in disgust, seemingly sickened by the idea. “Anyway, General Tummelt has agreed to meet in Piztala, since I promised to show him the finest of Tenebrae. He’ll arrive with his entourage for sure, but that won’t be a problem. Once I get him in private, we’ll do the switch there. Cor will leave Piztala as Tummelt, and one of my mercenaries as our guard.”

“Understood,” I acknowledge in return, finally piecing each part of the scheme in place. “Can I personally be the one to knock Tummelt out?”

“By all means. Just be careful not to break his face,” Candela warns.

“Also, another info I gathered,” Ravus adds, “is the location of the passage. It should be behind the old abandoned church in Narshe. You should be able to easily locate it once you arrive there. Lady Candela, Cor—I trust that your plan in Narshe is in order?”

Candela nods. “Yes. Now that we know where the passage is, I’ll have the townspeople gather by the old church. Our guards will be on standby outside Narshe. Cor should take care of things from the inside.”

“Indeed,” I agree. “As for the facility itself, I have a brief idea of the layout and where I could possibly find their Magitek research.”

To be honest, I want more than just the Magitek research. I want to dismantle its core. I want to destroy the entire place and burn it to ashes...

A sudden idea springs in my head. If I were to keep this disguise, might as well make the most out of it.

“I know I only have an hour to do all this…” I continue, carefully considering what I have in mind. “And I know I said something about stashing this uniform, but I figured it would be best to keep it on when I’m inside the facility.”

Ravus protests, “But General Tummelt doesn't have access to the production facility. If you were to be seen as him—”

“He would take the fall if _something_ were to happen inside,” I quickly answer. “Especially as the area is under his jurisdiction.”

There was a moment of silence, one that Ravus eventually breaks. “Oh, I see it now. That makes perfect sense.”

Candela face now lights up, as if to understand my train of thought. “Well, that’s just genius. Ruthless, but genius.”

The queen has yet to say her piece, but I proceed to take my stand: “Your Majesty, I promised you one thing when I arrived, and that is to do my best and whatever I can. That goes the same for the people back in Lucis. I know my job here is just to retrieve whatever information I can find about these atrocities that the Empire has been committing all these years. But I have to confess that I don’t think I can stand doing  people’s expectations, when I’m fully aware I can _exceed_ those expectations. Which is why I’d do whatever it takes, gamble my chances if need be—if you’d  _let_ me.”

I look at Queen Sylva straight right into her piercing gaze waiting for her response; altogether, I can feel Ravus and Candela watching the both us with utmost interest — same goes with the princess and Ronnie, whose attention have now been drawn to our side.

“Regis is right about you,” Queen Sylva says, a solemn smile in her face. “You are most definitely a force to be reckoned with. Lucis is fortunate to have someone like you in their service. And Candela’s right to trust you, too.”

She elegantly hovers around the table and walks toward me. “Not once did we ever doubt your judgment, Cor Leonis. So do as you deem fit,” she takes my hand with both of her own. A gentle warmth emanates from her. “By the Stars’ light, you have my blessing.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is heavily fueled by sin and my need to write a kind and endearing young!Ravus prior the batshit attack in Tenebrae.
> 
> Also, I'm aware how there's absolutely _zero_ interaction between Cor and Ravus in the game, but please consider this headcanon of mine that no one asked for, obviously: a sixteen-year-old Ravus hearing about the heroic exploits of a young legend that is Cor Leonis and ending up aspiring to be like _him_.


	5. Entropy

The last three days meandered in light speed onto the day of the Oracle’s tour.

In those last three days, a certain kind of pattern developed: eat, sleep, hunt, sex, repeat. Somewhere in between was me,  calibrating some equipment with Ravus (which, in reality, was mostly spent ensuring that the flash drive I’ll be using in securing the data will be untraceable), simulating my entire undercover with Candela, and successfully switching with the real Levi Tummelt in Piztala, retrieving his ID and all his mobile devices in the process. What remained as the common denominator is that Candela and I always ended up in bed by nightfall. Excluding that, I’m confident enough to say that the rest of those three days were significantly fruitful nonetheless.

Today, I’m now General Levi Tummelt of the Imperial army.

I repeat the name over and over in my head, reminding myself in exasperation, until I get used to the sound of it.

The first two towns we visited, Mobliz and Thamasa, were neighboring villages blanketed in ice and snow, a stranger to the mellow blossom of spring. Despite their perpetual state of winter, both the towns shared the same bustling and warm suburban nature with Piztala. The townsfolk, all bundled up in layers of wool and fleece, did not dare to miss this chance to gather around to meet the Oracle. I kept watch as Queen Sylva generously spent her time with them, offering them her prayers and giving her blessing all with her utmost forbearance and kindness.

They also happened to be the two towns which first get to witness me slip on this disguise.

So far, everything went smoothly. It did take a bit of time for me to feel at ease wearing this armor and this face in plain light of day; the only thing I’m thankful for is that this armor surely is doing one hell of a fine job to keep me warm in this numbing, cold temperature. But it’s an odd thing, having to pretend to be this Imperial commanding officer. I suppose I have to attribute it to the fact that I’m surrounded by Imperial riflemen and snipers, all of which are under the real Levi Tummelt’s unit. On a normal day, they would have automatically attacked me on sight. But to have my enemies now under my command empowers me with a peculiar feeling of sheer authority that my stomach churns in exhiliration.

I did notice most of the townspeople either eyeing me warily or not even giving me a time of their day, which is a relief, to be honest—less interaction, less complication. I remember Ravus mentioned that Tummelt avoided mingling with commoners as much as he could, despite him being, and I quote, “a loudmouthed idiot” in front of his fellow noblemen.

In any case, overall, the job was fairly simple: guard and watch over the Oracle at all costs. And for the rest of the morning, Ravus, Candela, and I did exactly just that.

After a wearisome drive and a little bit of drizzle, we arrive in Narshe under a much better and clearer weather by high noon, still freezing cold. The Magitek soldiers stationed at one of the watchtowers immediately acknowledge our presence and they raise the gate, all the while halting our Tenebraean escort to stay behind and to stand guard by the entrance. From here on out, we will only be accompanied by Imperial troops.

Looking at it from the outside, compared to Mobliz and Thamasa, Narshe is far from what anyone would call a typical town. With sky-high iron walls cloaked in snow, a Magitek production facility that rested at the nearby mountains, and a gargantuan gate that welcomed us forth, it appears to be more than a fortress than a village...

Sadly, seeing inside is even worse.

The town reeks of poverty and decay. Most of the wooden and stone houses are in shambles. Scattered all over are makeshift shelters and tents built out of thick fabric and lumber scraps. The townspeople have nothing but the heat of their bodies covered in worn-out wool coats and the large canisters that held burning coal and wood to chase away the biting cold. There are mothers whose arms are too wiry to carry their babies, children whose faces are too frail and pallid, and men whose bodies resemble a corpse than that of a breathing, human being.

What in the world did the Empire do to this place?

As I simultaneously let this living nightmare simmer and for the boiling rage that seethes within me to subside, I watch Ravus call upon and gather the townspeople. At a glacial pace, most of them trudge along toward the center of this arctic wasteland as Candela guides them to where an old beaten church rests in wait.

“Is everything alright, General?” Queen Sylva walks over to my side, rubbing her gloved hands together. She may still wear her usual grace like an armor, but that armor is gnawed and chipped by the tone of her voice; I could most definitely hear the echo of a hollow sadness seeping through the cracks.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” A fog forms out of my breath and I purse my lips into a forced smile, pulling out an answer in a voice that is not my own. My hands ball into fists, knuckles clenched white. _No, this is not okay,_ is what I want to scream. I want to take Ravus and Candela and Queen Sylva and all of these villagers out of here and carry them all to safety. I want to ravage each and every Magitek soldier I could lay my hands on.

As Queen Sylva and I tread along the mound of mud and snow, she mumbles underneath her misty breath, “This was once a prosperous and lively mining town. I remember visiting here when I was a child with my mother and…” She trails off, the expression in her face slightly creases into a grimace of pain.

I am angry and saddened and sickened by all of _this._ I am so fucking furious that right now, I don’t regret my decision to turn this recon assignment into a chance to destroy one of the Empire’s Magitek facilities for good. I don’t even regret that I’m about to ruin a man’s life and his reputation because of it. After all, the mere knowledge that Tummelt tolerated and allowed this kind of monstrosity under his watch is far beyond acceptable.

I shall let him take the brunt of my fury—I’ll be his judge, jury, and executioner.

And for what it’s worth, I can’t afford to screw up this assignment now, more than ever.

We reach the church steps where Candela and Ravus stood waiting. Queen Sylva turns to me, her blue eyes now fixed with something unfamiliar: unbridled determination and burning contempt. “Everything you see here now is all thanks to our beloved Empire. So, General Tummelt—let’s make haste, shall we?”

I seize this moment as my signal to go. I nod and turn to both Candela and Ravus, “I entrust things under your care Your Highness, Lady Candela. In the meantime, I will have other matters to attend to.”

“Leave everything to me, General,” Ravus says, his voice and posture exuding confidence.

I glance at Candela, who only imparts me with a smile and a small bow. But slowly and wordlessly, she mouths the words, _Be safe._

 _I will,_ I mouth in return.

I order the Imperial riflemen to stay on guard and remain by the Oracle’s side, which they mechanically obeyed. I scurry the steps and cautiously skirt around the metal and concrete rubble beside the church and onto the back, which reveals a dead end with nothing more than another heap of wreckage and snow. Without wasting another second, I search the area for any sign of a door or entrance on the wall and the ground. Ravus said it should be here somewhere…

I inspect every nook and cranny, digging and sweeping through the snow. Finally, my hands grasp an uneven surface on the ground; a lone shelf of metal juts out near the corner of the church’s wall, blending itself with the other pile of debris. I attempt to move it in different ways, but it won’t budge… until I end up pushing it down. It whispers a satisfying _click_. A low rumble stirs on the ground before me. Instantly, the snow steadily sinks as the earth parts in half, finally revealing a small crevice and a metal stairway.

As I make my descent into the darkness, I switch on my flashlight attached to my armor to illuminate my path. I quickly collect all my wits together; I walk hastily and cautiously, my hand resting at the hilt of my sword, examining my surroundings with ardent concentration. A faint, warm wind hums at the distance. I follow the direction of the soft whirring, my footsteps creating a ticking echo, and the sound it makes serves as an awful reminder of my time. Only one hour, I thought, and I only have approximately less than fifty minutes now to get everything done. I pick up my pace and proceed to walk faster.

The path remains linear and leads to another set of stairs. A tide of relief washes over me when I spot the vertical streak of light at the far end of the alley. I hurry further and I reach a metal door; the whirring sound is louder on the other side. I pry the door and it squeals open.

After a short time in darkness, my eyes hurt when I find myself in a fluorescent-lit corridor, walls glazed in bluish light. Without delay and like revisiting an old memory, my mind remembers the place. If my instincts are right, the layout of this area should be the same with the one from eight years ago; somewhere up ahead should be a laboratory. I rush forward as calmly as I can when I suddenly run into an Imperial sniper.

I was about to draw my blade when it raises its hand into a salute and mechanically greets, “Sir!”

Right. I’m wearing an Imperial uniform. I suppose there's still a flaw in their code—they can’t recognize who among their commanding officers have access on these facilities. Or maybe, Tummelt has been given access already around here and I’m just damn lucky. But honestly, who knows at this point?

I wave a hand and say, “At ease.” The Imperial sniper takes his hand down. I walk past it...

So, here’s the thing: I really can’t help myself.

In one swift motion, I swing around, knock the sniper off with the pommel of my sword and run my blade through its core. As it disintegrates into a vapor of sludge, it drops a rectangular piece of thin silver; I pick it up and it appears to be an access card.

Well, what a lucky find.

I survey my surroundings for the second time, all in good measure. I spy a surveillance camera at the end of the hallway; I hope that thing captured _this_ General Tummelt killing one Magitek soldier for posterity's sake.

Raising my sense of urgency, I walk as briskly as I can through another set of corridors, speeding past some Magitek troopers which all regard me with a salute, onto a steel-floored armory, and finally, a familiar looming door. So far, my instincts have been right. I hope I’m right with this one, too. I pull the access card I picked up earlier and scan it through the door reader. The door slides open.

True enough, this enormous room is a lab. Perhaps Lady Luck is really on my side today — not a sign of anyone around. I’ve seen this all before; in the middle, rows of glass tanks with different homunculi and clones ranging from little infants to full grown adults are submerged in fluid, orderly arrayed in full display. On the left end of the room are series of terminals with files stacked aimlessly at its surface. In quick, big strides, I approach that side and I hurriedly power up one of the stations; I fish out the flash drive in my pocket and I try to hack my way through their system as fast as I could. I already make a mental note to thank Cid for his hacking crash course.

I glance at the time. It’s been thirty minutes and I only have half an hour now. My heart beats ten times faster than usual.

I impatiently drum my fingers in the keyboard, watching the download to complete. While I’m at it, I skim on one of the pages of the research papers strewn all over:

_Research Log 2077: The Magitek core in this facility powers all Magitek units in the Narshe area. Power source has been upgraded using a new specimen as approved by His Imperial Majesty himself._

The sweat pool at the back of my neck thickens. I glance back at the screen and… gods, what a relief — it completed faster than I thought. I pull out the flash drive. Whatever Ravus did to this thing is nothing short of a miracle.

Now, to find that Magitek core.

I run to the back all the way at the end of the tanks and ascend the stairs connecting to another section of the lab. I scan again the same access card and…

_Six be damned._

The doors were only barely opened when the foul stench of rotting flesh and the copper tang of blood leaks through the gap. As I enter, a most macabre sight welcomes me.

This area has the same rows of glass tanks, but instead of clones, what’s inside are severed and mutilated bodies of people tied in chains, all oozing with black, putrid liquid. The variety of limbless bodies are staggering; among the masses of men, women, and children, there are those whose faces are even beyond recognition.

I’ve seen my fair share of horrors in life, but this one right in front of me takes the cake. I’d rather have the Tempering Grounds any given time of day.

I hold my breath, trying to shake off the disgust and anger which I don’t have the time to deal and process right now. I make haste scanning through the labels, and one of it reads as:

_Failed Unit SAS-1521 / Birth Name: Markus Ludwig June / Source: Gralea_

This guy is—or _was—_ one of those Imperial commanding officers.

With my increasing, debilitating confusion and my flood of questions that threaten to get the best of my judgment, I urge myself to press forward; I’m helplessly wrestling with time, and it demands me to move faster.

Galloping towards the far end of the platform, I find where my target lies await: a large cylindrical metal with a Magitek core, gleaming in crimson. From my pocket, I fish out Cid’s parting gift, one which he kindly shared with me along with his earlier word of caution: bite-size explosives with thrice the strength of a grenade and can be detonated even from a mile radius. Never thought I’d even have the chance to use this. Again, another thing to add to my growing list of debts I owe to Cid.

As I attach these things along the cylinder’s exterior, something catches the corner of my eye. Behind the core is another tank similar to the previous room, with wires fastened to the core itself. Inside is a naked woman, her body almost engulfed by her long, dark-colored hair, carrying a baby in her arms. It’s a boy, and… wait.

Her face looks familiar.

I study the label and it reads:

_Power Core Test / Birth Name: Sophia Lux Aldercapt (nee Via Fleuret) / Source: Gralea_

Gods.

Hearing those rumors is already repulsive enough, but to see _this..._

All at once, my blood boils scalding hot, my anger turns into an outrage. I break the glass  with a single strike, and it spits out a torrent of water and their washed out bodies along with it; I catch the woman and the child in my arms, carefully cradling them as I bring myself on my knees. I hold onto a shred of hope that I check for their breathing. A pulse. Anything. Just any sign of _life._

But nothing. Not a heartbeat. They’re both dead.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit!

I rest their lifeless bodies on the floor; I detach the cloak from my armor and wrap them with it.

Fucking _shit!_

The swell of my anger is too blinding that my fists repeatedly meet the metal floor with thunderous, beating cracks, over and over—

What fights its way through me is the remaining logical part of my brain, screaming through the static of my head.

I have to keep going. For their sake.

It snaps me back into focus, forcing me to keep moving, keep moving, _keep moving._

I heave myself up. And without looking back, I scatter the rest of the explosives on the floor as I charge my way out, mercilessly slicing and ripping all the Magitek troopers that meant no harm until I finally reach the surface of Narshe.

I arrive breathlessly at the eleventh hour, barking orders post-haste on all Magitek units to stay in town and remain on standby until further notice, which they all follow like the good lapdogs that they are. I did not waste another moment to escort Candela, Ravus, and Queen Sylva back to the car.

Everything happens in a flurry. As we drive off and reach a good distance away from Narshe, I click the detonator in my hand without a tiny speck of remorse.

 

* * *

 

Dusk had already settled the moment we returned to Tenebrae. When we reconvened in the common room, I tried to explain everything I saw back in the facility without missing any detail, altogether unequipping my disguise with Candela’s assistance. All four of us sat down with weary and troubled looks on our faces. The prince immediately took a laptop and inserted the flash drive; together, we viewed all the research files authored by Verstael Besithia. Turns out most of the rumors are true — the Empire is indeed responsible for the disappearance of towns. They did turn villagers into their experiments and eventually morphed them into daemons.

As I mention the case of Niflheim’s empress and her son, the room freezes in silence. Queen Sylva, Ravus, and Candela exchange shock-stricken glances.

“There must be some sort of mistake,” Candela’s voice is leaden and dagger-sharp. “That’s utter nonsense!”

In two weeks, I’ve witnessed Candela either get peevishly annoyed or seriously upset, and  now, the way her green eyes flash and burn doesn't fall somewhere between that spectrum. She’s beyond livid.

Candela snatches the laptop out of a terrified Ravus and begins typing away furiously, gritting her teeth. The sound of her fingers smashing the keys is the only thing that rings relentlessly throughout the room. As her eyes scan the screen, I watch her face gradually transition from rage to disbelief, her lips finally setting in a grim line. She slowly shakes her head, turning to Queen Sylva. One wounded look from Candela was all it took, and the queen squeezes her eyes shut and summons a deep breath that Ravus goes to his mother’s side for comfort, taking her hand on his. Another silence permeates the room, now echoing a deafening form of grief.

“I’m sorry,” the words helplessly fall out of my mouth.

“Cor,” the queen says shakily, “you have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault—”

“I should be the one apologizing,” Candela stammers, her eyes welling with tears as she pulls herself up, moving away from us. “I promised the both of you, with Gentiana—I’m so sorry, Sylva—”

It must be out of my exhaustion, but along with the sudden spike in the room’s temperature, Candela’s tone shifts, speaking in a different tongue. It’s a language I haven't heard before, and she is half-crying and half-screaming that both Queen Sylva and I rush over to her side. The queen was the first one to envelop her in a crushing embrace, and altogether, as if on cue, a cold and gentle breeze evaporates the peculiar heat.

What in the world just happened?

Before I can even form the question, Candela briefly departs from the queen’s arms and fixes her attention to me, her usual bright green eyes clouded with an unspeakable sadness. She then finds herself crashing into me, burrowing her face in my chest. I gently wrap the smallness of her body in my arms, wishing this very act can provide her even the littlest of comfort.

“I… I’m sorry you had to see that,” she timidly croaks as she looks up at me; I cup her warm, tear-stained face with my tired hands. “Thank you for all that you’ve done for us, Cor. I should let you know that…” she shortly pauses, and the flash of pain reappears in her face, but she presses on. “For helping us… we already have arranged a safe passage for you to get back to Lucis—” her breath hitches at the slightest— “and the ship departs first thing in the morning.”

The offer was a kind gesture, I admit; but it was a kindness that sharply drags me out of this two-week trance and washes me back waterlogged to the shores of reality.

And just like that, that reality moors itself in my head: I’ve successfully completed this mission. I got exactly what I came here for.

“That’s… thank you,” I say, sounding a little bit unsure; my hands still settle on Candela’s face, unwilling to let go. “I wouldn't have done this without any of you.” I turn to face Queen Sylva and Ravus, and then back again at her. “And you, Candela — most especially _you_.”

As her name rolls off my mouth, that reality further drops its anchor, sinking deeper: I’m going back home. I’m returning to my life in Lucis without Candela.

“In the meantime,” she clutches both my hands firmly with hers, “will you give me and the Fleurets a moment? I’ll be with you shortly.”

“Of course,” I nod, almost too stiffly.

As I see myself out of the room, I leave them to face their own sorrows, while I take my time to face mine.

 

* * *

 

Serve King Regis and the Lucian people.

Serve King Regis and the Lucian people.

Serve King Regis and the Lucian people.

Repeat to self until I return to my sense of duty.

 

* * *

 

I flop myself onto the bed, retreating to my usual routine of rumination. The oak tree outside would have been nicer, but for now, I’d settle staring at the ceiling. Or closing my eyes. Regardless, the things I’ve seen today remain plastered in my head, their images in vivid technicolor. I don’t think I’ll be able to catch some decent amount of sleep.

I can’t get their faces out of my mind. I’ve been in a battlefield, and I’ve seen people die in a battlefield. I’ve had my fair share of gore and carnage. But those people at the facility didn’t die fighting a war. Most of them were innocent civilians who probably didn't want anything to do with this damn mess we’re in.

And there’s the empress, whose face beamed with her bright, blue eyes and her beauty on that photo, was reduced to a ghoulish experiment, sacrificed by her own husband. And then her son…

To learn that this is the kind of enemy we’re fighting against fuels my need to go back home.

However, the very same fuel to return home now catapults a heavy feeling in my chest.

It’s a feeling I cannot name, and it grips and twists something in my gut. I should have been happy and relieved that I was able to accomplish this feat, that I’m not returning to Lucis empty-handed — that finally, after two weeks, I’m coming back home.

How and when did the idea of coming back home become so hard?

A knock on the door startles me out of my thoughts. I pull myself up and open the door to see Candela, her green eyes still puffed and rimmed red.

She sheepishly looks at me and asks, “May I come in?”

I usher her inside, and she closes the door behind her. All at once, Candela yanks me down by the hem of my shirt and catches me with her lips. I return the favor; my mouth explores hers, hungry and intense.

“Did it really have to be so soon?” I pull away; I cup her face, thumbing the softness of her cheeks.

“I don’t want to put you in more danger, Cor,” she answers, catching her breath.

The scent of her sweet skin lingers between us. I lean my forehead against hers. “I appreciate you worrying about me, but I can take care of myself. I could go back to Lucis without them knowing—”

“I know that.”

“Then why?”

“Because the longer you stay here, the more it’ll hurt for the both of us when you finally leave.” She grips both of my hands with hers and plants a gentle kiss on my knuckles, as if to assuage the sting of the truth of her words. “If I had a choice, I’d make you stay.”

“If I had a choice, I’d take you with me.”

Candela wistfully smiles, still not letting go. “You and I both know we can’t have nice things.”

“I know,” I admit ruefully. “Slaves to our loyalties and our sworn duties, you and I.”

We relish on this proximity and this limited time that we have, and exchange unspoken conversations with each other’s touch. Her hands wander from my arms, moving to rest on my chest; mine explores from the curve of her hips, settling down to the small of her back.

“To be honest, you're the one I’m worried about,” I finally tell her, my voice close to a whisper, my lips pressing a kiss on her forehead. I remember that she, too, had a rough night with all that we’ve discovered, that I just had to check up on her again and ask: “How are you feeling now?”

“Still shit,” she smiles weakly, and she adds, “but a bit better, I suppose. You're a fine kisser that you kissed some of the blues away.”

“Now that you’re back to your regular teasing program, I guess I should be relieved,” I press another kiss on her smiling lips. “But… seriously, Candela. I’m sorry for what happened—”

“Cor, it’s not your fault,” she shakes her head, a grievous expression returns to her face. “The Empire’s to blame.”

Candela looks up at me, her fingers fiddling with the collar of my shirt, her eyes searching and almost hesitating.

“Sophia, she’s…” Candela begins, the weight of the empress’ name falls heavily from her mouth. “She’s Sylva’s eldest sister. She was stubborn sometimes, but she was kind and selfless. She was far too kind that when she was disowned by their father the moment she vehemently expressed her disinterest to be the next Oracle, she never held a grudge. She respected her father’s decision and she walked away, letting go of the Fleuret name. The only thing that destroyed her was having to live the rest of her life away from her beloved sister. Sylva and I helped her start anew in secret. In spite of all that happened, Sophia remained ambitious — the only reason she didn’t want to be an Oracle was because she had other things in mind. She wanted to rule an empire. And rule she did when she charmed the shit out of Iedolas. Sophia did rule, for some time.”

Candela pauses briefly as she looks up at me again, eyes exhibiting tentative courage, as if to wait for what I have to say. I only nod in reply, and I hold her closer as she bravely gathers her strength and another breath to tell her story.

“I… I probably would have died as a street rat in the slums if Sylva and Sophia didn't generously take me in,” she whispers, her voice hoarse, “and to return their kindness, I swore to the both of them that I’d risk anything to serve them. I promised to protect the both of them the only way I know how, and I failed. I’m such a disaster—”

“Candela, look at me,” I gently lift her face. The regret and guilt that Candela inflicts upon herself is a familiar feeling. It’s a territory that I know so well, and yet it’s a territory that I’m still navigating helplessly from time to time. It’s an abyss of a terrible, bad habit: people like us tend to carry the weight of the blame on our shoulders, even if the fault lies in the fates far beyond our control.

“It’s just as you said earlier. The Empire’s to blame. And you didn't fail them—our circumstances did,” I say, firmly holding her gaze. “And that doesn’t make you a disaster.”

Candela grips on the fabric of my shirt. “Gods, you’re too good to me, you know that?”

I know her question doesn't beg for an answer, but I give her one when I pull her for another kiss. Her hands hang around my neck, and I support her closer to me by wrapping my arms around her waist. Candela’s kiss exudes warmth, but a gentler kind, and somehow, similar with the one I’ve felt back in the common room…

I break away, meaning to ask her a question, when an odd commotion starts to stir and billow from outside the room, and suddenly the door bursts open—

“Ronnie, wait!” Ravus’ voice was booming as he tries to stop Ronnie, who barges first through the door. Not a distance behind is Luna and her usual entourage of dogs, Pryna and Umbra.

Judging by the surprised looks on their faces and Ravus’ attempt to cover Ronnie’s face, I realize that Candela and I are still clinging on to each other, way too close for the comfort of our young audience. We take that as our cue to disentangle from one another.

“Ravus, that’s not going to work considering I’ve seen _worse,_ ” Ronnie says dryly, swatting Ravus’ hand out of her eyes. I throw Candela a nervous glance, while she only stifles a laugh.

“Cor, Ravus says you’re already leaving?” Ronnie asks, her voice strained with disbelief. “Is it true?”

“Yes,” I answer. “I’m afraid so—”

Ronnie tackles me with a bone-crushing hug. “We’ll miss you. Ravus is too shy to admit it, so I’m telling you this on his behalf.”

“I can confirm that on behalf of my brother as well,” Luna adds, beaming with amusement.

Ravus scrambles to defend himself. “Both of you, stop it—”

“You’re blushing, Ravus,” Candela playfully teases him further. I pity the man whose face is now flaming red. Ravus only shakes his head in exasperation.

“Well, I… thank you,” he says, his eyes glued on the floor, “for helping us out. And for teaching me even for a short period of time.”

“It’s been a pleasure, Your High—I mean, Ravus,” I offer. He smiles with a look of genuine satisfaction.

“Mom, can we sleep here? I mean Luna and Ravus and Pryna and Umbra?” asks Ronnie, whose grip is still around my waist. “Pretty please?”

Candela turns to me, positively amused. “Cor, your thoughts?”

“I don't see a problem with it,” I answer. Candela smiles; Luna and Ravus exchange a cheerful grin.

I turn to Ronnie, who looks up at me, smiling from ear to ear. Then, she asks me again, “When you go back home, will you miss this? Us?”

“Well, kid—” I kneel down so I can look at Ronnie straight into her mismatched eyes. My heart swells just looking at her sweet, guileless face. “I’m still here and yet I already miss you. All of you.”

 

* * *

 

I didn’t get sleep, just as I expected, but for good enough reasons—we spent the rest of the evening talking and playing, and eventually, Candela and the rest of the young ones huddled up themselves with the blankets and slept in the bed. Pryna and Umbra were kind enough to keep me company watching over these kids, Candela included.

I watch as the sun breaks the sky into a rosy glow of dawn. The view from this window allows me to see the sylleblossom field, along with the giant oak tree that kept me company for two weeks.

“You’re leaving in a few hours.” Behind me, a small set of arms snake around my waist. I turn around to see Candela, her eyes carrying both the weight of sleep and sadness.

“I know.” I glance up to see the children still snoring away. I steal a gentle kiss from her lips.

“I already miss you,” she whispers. “Self-indulgent question but… will you miss me?”

“I don’t think I can’t _not_ miss you, Candela,” I say. “You’ve been my pain in the ass for two weeks.”

“That’s great to hear, Cor. I’m honored to be your pain in the ass,” she breathes out a laugh.

“Before I go, can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” she hums against my chest.

“Did you… how much did you know about me before I even got here?”

She looks up at me with a mischievous smirk. “Are you trying to confirm how much dirt I have on you?”

“Could be,” I shrug.

“Well, I know for a fact that you’ve survived the infamous Tempering Grounds and earned yourself quite a badass nickname… Though you really don’t like it, do you? Being called  _that_?”

I sigh. “It’s… sort of complicated.”

“Well, immortal or not, I think it suits you. I mean, considering your stamina in bed—”

“Candela.” I playfully squeeze her hips. She chews her lip to control herself from giggling.

“Okay, but seriously,” she pulls away, and she casts me a look of sincerity. “Just like what you said to me yesterday: whatever it is you think you failed, you didn't—your circumstances did.”

I nod. “Touché.”

“My turn.” She takes both of my hands. “Not a question, but can I ask you to keep me a promise?”

I look at her curiously. “What is it?”

“If anything—or, should anything happen… please keep Briony safe.”

“What are you saying—”

“It’s just… promise me, Cor,” she pleads, almost begging. “I just need to know that apart from me, there’s someone out there who’ll protect her fiercely. Please—”

I pull her against my chest and plant a kiss on the crown of her head. “You have my word.”

“Oh, and another thing,” she adds.

“What is it?”

“Write to me.”

“Alright… but you do know I can just shoot a text.”

“Nah, saying ‘ _write to me’_ sounds a little bit more romantic, isn't it?” she says in between giggles. “And I’d love to see your handwriting and smell your scent on parchment.”

“Gods, Candela… you’re something else.”

“I know.”

As the quiet morning rolls along with my remaining time, I study Candela and take this promise into heart. With my remaining time, I try to memorize her face, the shade of her eyes, the burning blaze of her hair in the light of dawn, and this eerie feeling that settles itself somewhere inside me everytime I look at her.

 

* * *

 

Serve King Regis and the Lucian people.

Repeat to self until I return to my sense of duty and dull the aching emptiness in my chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing in first person is so emotionally and mentally draining that this chapter was particularly heavy and one heck of a rollercoaster ride. Editing, rereading, and rewriting this was a nightmare. *grabs myself a pint of ice cream*


	6. Epilogue

It has only been three months since I’ve returned to the city, but two weeks I spent in Tenebrae turned the scent of Insomnia into a steaming pile of junk.

So far, I’ve been back to my usual, busy routine. Admittedly, my early morning coffee runs have been sorely missed; caffeine is something I had to inject back to my system given that there were a number of new recruits upon my return. I took upon my mantle to train these greenhorns as hard as I could that I designed a new set of drills and regimen that would address how we should combat these Magitek infantrymen based from what I have gathered from my recon assignment.

Having said that, thanks to the intensive training I prepared, it took me quite some time to get onto my paperwork in line with Operation Narshe. (I had to use that name now because I pinky-promised Ronnie.) After the news broke out that the Narshe Magitek facility was destroyed, all hell broke loose: the media all across different regions were having a field day on getting their hands on the important details to grace their headlines. Of course, I immediately called Cid to tell him that his invention worked; he was extremely pleased to learn that one of his trade secrets just pulverized one Empire facility into dust. Because of that, he was even eager to make more of those nasty things.

As it turns out, along with that destruction, it did disable the Magitek troopers around the vicinity, including the ones in the village. It was a good thing that there were mercenaries in the area that helped the villagers from Narshe to evacuate to safety when the series of explosions happened. And because of that, the word on the real situation of Narshe spread like wildfire not just in Niflheim, but all over the world. Unfortunately, with the influence of the Empire all across their territories, they managed to monopolize most of the news outlets and manipulate the stories to reduce the casualties to their already damaged reputation — especially with regards to the empress’ fate. They still claim that the empress is alive and well, and that she is still recuperating from her miscarriage. Which, of course, is what I would call a truck load of bullshit.

As for the fate of Levi Tummelt, he did receive the brunt of my rage. There was word among the Lucian council that he was sentenced to life imprisonment due to treason; originally, he was meant to be publicly executed, but given that his house is one of the higher Imperial houses, they ultimately accepted his pleas of so-called innocence.

“Here,” I hand the formal report to Clarus, who’s lounging in his office chair with a pensive look on his face. “Sorry if this took a while.”

“Not a problem,” he says. Clarus spreads his elbows across his desk and looks at me intently. His mouth slightly hangs open, and then closes, hesitating. And finally, he asks, “Cor, is everything alright?”

The question came out of nowhere. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… ever since you came back, you’ve become more—how do I put it, uh… more robotic than ever,” he says. "Not to mention, way grumpier."

“I don’t understand—”

“To simply put it—as your friend, I’m here to tell you that you’ve been overworking yourself for the last three months,” he sighs heavily. “And that you _really_ need to get laid. Immediately.”

I must admit, I missed Clarus' bluntness about my private life; he never pulls any punches. "Clarus, I appreciate your concern, but I believe my sex life is not your business—”

A knock on the door interrupts this idiotic conversation. The door opens, and it’s none other than King Regis himself.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

“I’m sorry, I had to put Noctis to sleep,” Reggie admits, tiredly shaking his head. “What did I miss?”

“Oh, we were just in the middle of talking about Cor and his sex life,” Clarus cheekily taunts.

“Goddamnit,” I breathe. “Did you guys talk about this?” I try not to sound irritated.

Reggie takes the chair on the opposite side. “Yes. Clarus here believes that you need some sort of intervention.”

I groan in disbelief. “Gods—I can’t believe I’m working for the both of you.”

Reggie just laughs. “Oh, Cor. You have nothing to worry about—consider this as just an intimate chat amongst friends.”

Clarus looks at me suspiciously. “You know, apart from what happened in Narshe, you never really told us what happened in Tenebrae.”

“He’s right,” Reggie agrees further. “You never told us about Candela Clark.”

A short moment of silence ensues; I look at the both of them, as if they said something ridiculous. I remain as neutral as I can at the mere mention of her name, so I ask, “What about her—”

“Oh gods,” Clarus’ booming laugh slices through his office. “You slept with her!”

“What, no, I—”

“You sneaky son of a bitch,” Clarus shakes his head. “I know that face, Cor. That tiny mouth twitch. I know these things and I’ve known you since you were a kid. You can’t hide anything from me.”

“Then I suppose our hunch was right all along,” Regis goads on, grinning in amusement.

What in heaven's name did I do to deserve this today?

“Yes, fine! I admit. You got me,” I finally accept this embarrassing defeat. “Still, not your business—”

Another knock interrupts this train of conversation, _thank the gods._ Let this be someone who would get me out of this room, stat.

Clarus beckons for the person on the other side of the door to enter; a raven-haired glaive reveals herself and courteously greets us.

“I apologize for interrupting, but, um—it’s for Cor Leonis, sir,” she says timidly.

“Is something the matter?” I ask.

“Well, um—there’s a woman at the gate looking for you. Says she’s your fiancée.”

I turn around to see Clarus and Reggie exchange a look of shock and amusement. And just when I thought I can get away with the teasing, someone decided to even add a prank as a cherry on top.

To clear this confusion at once, I offer, “You must be mistaken, I don’t have a—”

“Pray tell, what does she look like?” Reggie cuts me off, asking the young glaive with adamant interest while eyeing me with a sly grin.

The glaive tries to recall, and answers, “Well, Your Majesty, she has long, red hair, and green eyes, and she’s a bit petite…”

Wait, could it be?

“If you’ll excuse me,” I immediately say, darting through the door past the girl. I hear Clarus and Reggie call out to me in confusion, but I pay them no mind. The thought of Candela now keeps racing in my head like flashes of lightning; just like we've promised, we exchanged letters and texts throughout the last three months, albeit sporadically, and each letter and text failed to satiate my need to see her face again. I run as fast as I can through the marbled hallways, toward the Citadel steps, and onto the front gates. If she really is here...

However, when I got there, there’s no sign of the woman mentioned. I ask the stationed guard, “A glaive reported that someone was looking for me?”

“Yes, sir. There was. But she already left a while ago,” the guard groggily replies.

“I see, thanks.” I catch my breath and make my way back inside the Citadel with a slight tinge of disappointment. I promise that whoever played that nasty, little stunt, I’m going to personally kick their ass tomorrow.

Though, I have to say, because of that runt’s prank, I was able to get myself out of Clarus’ office. A proper thanks should also be in order for that person, I suppose.

I take the elevator back to my own office. It has been a long night, and I might as well call it a day. A bottle of beer or two could probably help at this point.

I open the door to my room, and to my surprise, I find the glaive from earlier sitting on my desk.

“Who gave you permission to be in here?” I ask her sternly, unable to hide my annoyance.

“No one,” she curtly responds. Drautos really has some of the most interesting soldiers. “I must say, you lot should reconsider and review the security around here.”

I incredulously gape at her. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, the likes of me could just come and go without anyone noticing,” she rises from my seat, inching closer to me. The tone of her voice sounds oddly familiar. “But you wound me, Cor. To think you’ve forgotten me so easily like that.”

I snap back. “Who are you again?”

As if on cue, she peels off the skin glued on her face and removes something from her eyes to show a shade of green. Lastly, she grabs her jet-black hair and discards it on the floor, revealing a fiery red — a shade I know so well.

Why, of course. I try to bite back the smile creeping out of my face, only to fail miserably.

“I hope this jogs something out of your memory,” she teases, a shit-eating grin on her face.

Gods, be good to my poor heart, how I missed her so.

I close the remaining gap between us. “Long time no see, Candela.”


End file.
